


Blooming Takes Some Time

by AngelsDwellHere



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, But that's another story, Fluff and Angst, Jicheol, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, floriography references, idk how these tags works so, maybe OOC characters iMSOSORRY---, mentions of verkwan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-09-08 03:20:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8828437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelsDwellHere/pseuds/AngelsDwellHere
Summary: When the full-blown force of the realization that Jihoon was indeed, in love with Seungcheol, came slowly. Like the blooming of flowers and the rising of the sun--it came with subtle movements until it revealed itself fully. Jihoon had expected it to happen sooner or later; he wasn't stupid. He knew he was getting attached to the other male, and that meant something. Something. That something was called love.





	1. this is only the beginning, darling

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this is my first fic that i have posted, but not the first that I have written. i will try to update as much as i can;;;but i can't promise that bec im very busy with finals and school and shit
> 
> pls enjoy :)

**Daisies** **  
**   
Spring, Year XXXX   
  
It was subtle. When the full-blown force of the realization that Jihoon was _indeed_ , in love with Seungcheol, came slowly. Like the blooming of flowers and the rising of the sun--it came with subtle movements until it revealed itself fully. Jihoon had expected it to happen sooner or later; he _wasn't_ stupid. He knew he was getting attached to the other male, and that meant something.   
  
Something. That _something_ was called love.   
  
Jihoon felt literally frozen in time as he realized it, looking at Seungcheol as the other male wrote lyrics for his rap in the studio a few days ago.   
  
'I love him,' He realizes, his chest swelling with an unfamiliar warmth. His throat suddenly feeling suffocated and stuck, palms growing sweaty and his eyes widening for a fraction of a moment. 'I love him,' He thinks again, this time with conviction.   
  
Seungcheol groaned, staring at the paper beneath his fingers, looking more and more conflicted with every second passing. A frustrated Seungcheol was a rare sight. Jihoon thinks it's something to hold on to--something only he'll ever be able to get a glimpse of. A glimmer of hope that maybe, just _maybe_ \--he's just a bit special to Seungcheol.   
  
"Jihoon-yah," Seungcheol calls out, voice pitifully tired and worn, and Jihoon wants to run to him and wrap him in this arms and lull him to sleep. But Jihoon doesn't do that. Instead he looks over to Seungcheol, eyes also sore and dry from staring at the computer screen too long. Seungcheol is looking at him with worn, sore and tired eyes.   
  
"Mhm?" His throat hurts.   
  
"I'm really tired. I can't think straight. Can we rest for a bit?" Seungcheol looks so worn out, and Jihoon himself is tired too--so he nods silently, closing his eyes to avoid staring at Seungcheol too long. He could spend hours looking at the other male, just taking in each and every detail of Seungcheol slowly and absorbing, admiring and adoring.   
  
Seungcheol stands shakily from his seat, then pausing to look at Jihoon, a smile pulling at his lips.   
  
"Do you want a fresh cup of coffee?"   
  
Jihoon wants to wrap his arms around Seungcheol from behind. Snuggle in the other male's arms and feel _safe_ \--without a single worry in the world. But he holds himself back. He's not supposed to do that.   
  
"Yes please," He smiles. He can't help it--he'll take a chance at affection when he can. Seungcheol smiles back, and then grabs Jihoon's hand, tugging him off his chair and out the studio's doors.   
  
"Where are you taking me, hyung?" Jihoon asks, tone light and almost teasing. Seungcheol just grins tiredly back at him, silently squeezing Jihoon's hand and tugging him away.   
  
They walk through the familiar path of buildings and houses. It's silent, and yet there is not a trace of awkwardness in the air between them. Jihoon supposes it's because Seungcheol is opting for silence than meaningless small talk. Jihoon doesn't mind it--it's a little unnerving, though. Jihoon has lived with 12 other hormonal teenage boys under the same roof, that he's gotten so used to all the noise and chatter. He finds the silence oddly weird, and yet he welcomes it, because he shares it with Seungcheol.   
  
It's a while before neither Seungcheol nor Jihoon says anything. Jihoon breathes out slowly, eyeing the puffs of air coming out of his mouth.   
  
"How's the lyric composition going?" Seungcheol suddenly asks, his voice casual. Jihoon startles for a moment before regaining his composure.   
  
"We just started, so it's a little bit rough. But we're gonna get there." Jihoon says quietly, his determination bleeding into his words. Even Jihoon himself can hear it in his voice--that foolish composer. He digs his hands into his pockets, feeling a little too cold for comfort. He bits the urge to say something he isn't supposed to say.   
  
"How's the rap composition with the hip hop team?" Jihoon asks instead, looking up from the ground and to Seungcheol, who's already staring at him with the same, familiar concerned eyes. Jihoon feels a light heat come to his cheeks--he's not used to looking at Seungcheol and finding the other already staring back at him.   
  
"Overall, it's some progress. Vernon was way ahead of me--that kid's already got his parts good for proofreading." Seungcheol answers, and if Jihoon wasn't delusional, he could have sworn he saw Seungcheol look bitter on mentioning Vernon.   
  
"…I guess it's only to be expected from one of our maknaes, hyung." Jihoon muses, thinking to how Seungkwan had kept on pestering him if his self-written lyrics were already good to go, and Jihoon reading them over and over again, eventually telling Seungkwan his final opinion.   
  
Seungkwan was one of their over-achieving and almost always brilliant maknaes, and Jihoon can't help but feel a little jealous as to how Seungkwan can come up with such sweet, loving and sincere words so easily. It's almost as if Seungkwan really had someone to tell those words to, and for a moment, Jihoon's head flashes to Seungkwan's little moments with Seungcheol--especially the ones where neither of them thinks anyone is looking.   
  
"…" Seungcheol doesn't say anything. There's a beat on loop here, Jihoon thinks.   
  
"Do you want to ask me something, hyung? Just go ahead and ask me." Jihoon presses, finally having the courage to be the one to reach out this time. He's irritated by the fact that there's something Seungcheol is keeping from him, even though they’re supposed to be open with each other--considering how long their friendship has lasted.   
  
"…Did you let Vernon hear the song you were working on-- _for all of us_ \--first?" Seungcheol asks, voice casual but somewhat demanding. The emphasis on how the song was made for all of them-- _for SEVENTEEN_ \--doesn't go unnoticed by Jihoon. He shrugs it off.   
  
"Yeah. I needed a second opinion." Jihoon replies easily.   
  
Seungcheol breathes in shakily. Jihoon wonders why Seungcheol is acting like this--like he was betrayed or cheated on. It makes Jihoon feel somewhat irritated, but strangely at the same time, he feels somewhat better about having feelings for Seungcheol.   
  
"You could have asked my opinion, you know." Seungcheol says casually, a small smile on his face. It doesn't reach his eyes. There's this concealed frustration on Seungcheol's face, and Jihoon absolutely hates it. He hates that Seungcheol always hides something from him--being the idiot like he is, thinking that it's the best for _both_ of them.   
  
"I know. But you were busy and all. So I asked the next best person." Jihoon murmurs, loud enough for Seungcheol to hear. He walks in a slower pace now, falling behind Seungcheol.   
  
There's silence after that. Seungcheol doesn't seem angry, just tired and somehow, sad. Both of them aren't willing to say anything to each other, and they're too tired for anything.   
  
"Why aren't you telling me why you're _really_ upset, hyung?" Jihoon asks, getting fed up of the silence. He doesn't like it. Even if Seungcheol says that "there are no words needed for this hyung and dongsaeng," Jihoon still worries. He wants to talk to Seungcheol openly, not having to hide anything.   
  
"I don't want you to worry about something else when you're supposed to be focused on making the music for all of us. You're already busy enough…" There's something in the way Seungcheol says that statement that makes Jihoon want to kiss him, yet at the same time, slap him so hard, it physically hurts.   
  
Jihoon smiles. Seungcheol is too much-- _too selfless_ and _too kind_ .   
  
They don't say anything for the rest of the walk, even when they come to the vending machine at the 24/7 convenience store. Seungcheol doesn't ask Jihoon how he likes his coffee--because he already _knows_ . It's something he'd picked up through living with Jihoon for years; knowing exactly how he likes his coffee on the good days and on the bad days. The machine beeps to signal that the coffee was ready, and Seungcheol takes it out of the hatch to add 1 pack of sugar, and then two packs of creamer. He stirs, then hands it to Jihoon.   
  
Jihoon accepts the coffee gratefully, hissing a little because the cup was steaming hot. They drink their coffee in silence, neither of them saying anything. They walk back to the studio with lighter feet, feeling a more refreshed, but with heavy hearts--not sure of what had changed, even if it was just a little.   
  
"You think so little of yourself, hyung."

 _With the arrival of spring and the migrating birds and the slow retreat of cold winters, came small epiphanies and births of all kinds--the start of families, the animals awakening to nature’s call, and the hope that comes to all of us. It is only natural that we see the light, even after the darkest of paths. We find ourselves thinking of what was and what is and what will be, and when we look back to the dark, we find it amusing and sometimes even regretful--but what has passed and been done is done, and we cannot turn back now._   
  
****


	2. subtle things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i decided to edit it a bit
> 
> sorry

**Red Carnations** **  
**   
Summer, Year XXXX   
  
Jihoon has always made sure that each and every song that he produced held meaning--a small importance to him. They had to remind Jihoon of something, something important, even if it was a little thing like the way he's used to the sometimes stressful bicker of Minghao and Mingyu over something as simple and small as dinner--or the way he knows he can't _ always _ win every trophy of an award show for their group. The way he knows that sometimes he  _ won't _ be enough--but despite that he still tries.    
  
' _ What a foolish composer I am,' _ Jihoon thinks to himself, laughing softly.    
  
It's half-past 11 pm. Jihoon and Seungkwan are at a karaoke place a few blocks away from the dorm, celebrating their apparent traditional 'Mini-Noraebang' every Friday, searching up a random songs and singing their hearts out. Jihoon doesn't mind this little bonding session--in fact, he _ loves _ it. It's therapeutic, in it's own way.   
  
Jihoon and Seungkwan--and sometimes even DK or other members join--for late-night sessions on Fridays, just to scream their hearts out through song, because stress builds up like plaque on artery walls and they need an outlet. Singing is one way--the way that isn’t destructive or scandalous.   
  
"Why didn't Wonwoo-hyung come this time?" Seungkwan asks, sounding a little sad. Jihoon briefly wonders why Seungkwan is acting like this.    
  
"He had something to do with Mingyu, apparently. He seemed a little sad about something…" Jihoon says, tone light.   
  
"Oh."   
  
Seungkwan sings two songs before Jihoon can say anything else. He sings soulfully, and whole-heartedly, and Jihoon finds it amazing. The ability to convey emotion in his singing was a quality of Seungkwan's that he'd always admired.   
  
"Seungkwan-ah," Jihoon calls. The sound of the pounding rain outside could barely be heard from inside the karaoke room. It had been raining a lot recently.    
  
"Yes, hyung?"    
  
The younger is seated on the large sofa in front of the TV screen where some songs were listed, the songbook seated on his lap. The horrendous amount of food the other male has put around him makes Jihoon scrunch his nose. It's sort of adorable though, he thinks. But  _ definitely not _ suited for their diet.   
  
"What song should be sung if the person is longing for someone that they can't have?" Jihoon asks casually, though he bets his eyes are betraying him. Seungkwan looks up at this, surprised, and stares at Jihoon for a long time. Scrutinizing him. Jihoon turns away, preferring to not say anything.   
  
"…That One Person, You (그대라는 판 사람) by SNSD's Tiffany-sunbaenim." Seungkwan says slowly, tone careful and tentative. Jihoon can tell that Seungkwan is suspecting something. It's obvious either way--Jihoon hardly ever requests for a song for feelings like that. Jihoon keeps his emotions separate from everything and anything--and everyone in SEVENTEEN  _ knows _ that.   
  
"I know that song. I'm gonna sing it," Jihoon says. Seungkwan makes an audible noise of surprise. Jihoon pointedly doesn't look at Seungkwan. He's afraid Seungkwan might find out, and call him names--call him  _ disgusting _ and a  _ homo _ , and tell the other members and they'll call him names too--he's so  _ afraid _ . Scared.  _ Terrified _ .    
  
Seungkwan doesn't say anything as Jihoon steals the laptop from his lap and types in the song's title and searches for the karaoke. He does find one, and he clicks it.   
  
It loads for a bit, and then it plays. The audio playing was obviously not the original instrumental version, but quite similar. Jihoon then starts to sing, lyrics pouring out of him--sounding  _ earnest  _ and  _ true _ , and it's so fucking obvious what Jihoon felt. 

 

_ Such a precious person to me _

_ That person, who won’t ever come again _

_ That’s it for me, that’s enough _

_ Just the fact that I love you _   
  
Soft falsettos in the beginning, then blending to strong sopranos, then falling back to soft, almost scared tones. Then building up all over again--Jihoon lets himself get lost in the song, singing his heart out that it almost physically hurt.

 

_ The one person who can’t see me though I am looking _

_ The one person who can’t hear me though I am calling _

_ Do you even remember me? _

_ Do you even think of me? _

_ Just once, please _   
  
_ The one person who appears even when I close my eyes _

_ The person who is next to me even in my dreams _

_ Do you even remember me? _

_ Do you even think of me? _

_ I miss you, please _

 

Seungkwan is staring at him. With each moment passing he looks more and more surprised, finally  _ understanding _ . Jihoon sings the last verse softly, as if he's afraid someone might listen in and find out--because it would be so obvious to who he was referring to if they knew. 

 

_ The only thing I can do is cry but _

_ Like a fool, I am waiting _

_ Please come to me now _

_ Come to me just like this _

 

_ My last wish is that one person, you _

 

The song finishes, and Jihoon breathes out slowly, eyes downcast and scared. He's let out most of his feelings in one song that Seungcheol didn't even hear--and he feels so pathetic. So fucking  _ pathetic _ .   
  
"…hyung," Seungkwan starts, looking sad and pitiful, "Do you want to talk about it?"    
  
"…No." Jihoon hears himself say, voice sounding so soft and vulnerable. He hates being vulnerable.   
  
"…Hyung please."   
  
"All you need to know is that this person--" He almost says Seungcheol's name, before biting his lip, "…doesn't know. And probably doesn't love me back."   
  
They're both silent after that. There's a beat of silence before Seungkwan turns off the irritating light of the room and the TV, then shuffling closer to Jihoon--practically cuddling him.    
  
"I know how that feels, hyung." Seungkwan says, voice sounding soft and empathetic. There's no longer any hint of pity in his voice or expression, and Jihoon finds himself happy at that--he doesn't want to be pitied. At all.   
  
"The one I love…doesn't know--but he probably knows. I mean, it's so fucking obvious already. To anyone who would actually take a second glance." Seungkwan sounds sincere and sad, that Jihoon can't help but feel sad for the other male too.    
  
Jihoon knows that Seungkwan, of all people, deserve to be loved in return. The boy was so earnest and would shower the person they loved with so much affection.    
  
"I love him so much, hyung." Seungkwan says softly. Jihoon then realizes that Seungkwan wasn't referring to a girl--but a boy. He breathes out in relief, knowing that he wasn't alone and that Seungkwan wasn't going to judge him.   
  
"I love him and the way he says my name, the way he hugs me and laughs at my jokes even if they're not funny--and most of all, I love him when he tells me I'm  _ pretty _ , just the way I am." Jihoon notices that Seungkwan is crying now--big, fat tears rolling down his round cheeks. Without a second thought, Jihoon embraces him.   
  
"And it's not just said because he doesn't want to hurt me. It's not a lie or a joke--it's the truth, h-he says so…" Seungkwan is crying. Jihoon just holds him, not really knowing how to comfort the other boy.    
  
"Please don't hate me, please don't hate me for being attracted to guys,  _ I'm so sorry _ \--" Seungkwan starts shivering, shaking--sounding so scared and broken.   
  
"I'm not going to hate you, Seungkwan." Jihoom interrupts, tone soft. He breathes in and steels himself, mouth opening and saying--"Because I'm attracted to guys too."   
  
Seungkwan makes a surprised noise, looking up to Jihoon, looking so small with his big fat tears rolling down his round cheeks. Jihoon looks at him this time, feeling sad for both of them at the same time--knowing that they're both  _ different _ , and not able to fit in with the rest of them so easily. That they're both gay and not straight--they're  _ not normal  _ to society.   
  
Seungkwan is silent. He's still staring at Jihoon, looking almost scared to say something. Jihoon just stares back, until he feels something prickling at his eyes. It stings a bit, then he feels his eyes start to get watery. He bites his lower lip. Seungkwan blinks, then back to staring at Jihoon with wide eyes--seeing the other break down in front of him.    
  
Jihoon feels the tears start rolling down his cheeks. He's been biting his lip for so long, it feels so painful. He tastes blood on his tongue.   
  
"You can cry in front of me, hyung." Seungkwan's voice is tentative, careful, and understanding.    
  
And he so does. Grabbing a blanket and biting it, trying to muffle the sobs that were shaking his body. It's a moment before Jihoon feels Seungkwan wrap his arms tightly around him, embracing him. Jihoon wants to cry even more.    
  
They both embrace each other, feeling each others' tears wet their shirts. They don't say anything.    
  
He hasn't cried like that in a long time.

  
_ Summer is a season of refreshing breezes. When summer comes knocking on your door, and you open it wide to welcome it--there is a moment of breathlessness. Summer is a time of fleeting moments as they overlap over each other and pass on quickly--it is the season of one-time lovers in sandy beaches and cool summer nights where nails rake at one’s back as bodies move together in sync; a time of fleeting adventure. But it is also a time for wistfulness and hiraeth. A time of silent longing. _ _   
_


	3. if you'd notice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heereeee .... ..

**Gardenias**   


Late Summer, Year XXXX

Being in love with Seungcheol wasn’t as dramatic as Jihoon had expected. He thought he’d be running around or something, trying to get noticed or something really drastic. But it wasn’t. It was just like life just dropped a bomb on him from miles up in the air, only that the explosion didn’t happen--it just hit him. On the head. 

It was a bit disappointing, but he knew that he wasn’t a  _ girl _ , and he wasn’t gonna get a fairy tale ending after realizing his lo--affections for Seungcheol. It was something he knew from the very beginning--from when he first met Seungcheol, years and years ago. 

_ “I’ll marry someone in the future!” Seungcheol exclaims loudly, grinning goofily before continuing, “I’ll marry a pretty and amazing girl who’ll cook dinner for me!” _

The line now rings clear in Jihoon’s head, as if a constant reminder of the line between him and Seungcheol that he is not allowed to pass. Jihoon ignores it, knowing that he shouldn’t focus on that--he should be focusing on the music he was producing. The music wasn’t just for him, but also for the rest of SEVENTEEN. He can’t let the other members down. 

“Jihoon.” 

“Hm?” Jihoon turns his head to look at the said person he was thinking about,  Seungcheol. The other boy is staring at him curiously, a small smile playing at his lips like he knew exactly what Jihoon was thinking. Jihoon doesn’t want to think about it too much. Seungcheol doesn’t know, and Jihoon can tell because the other boy isn’t disgusted with him right now.

They’re in the studio for some final recording--since Seungcheol wanted  _ one more _ damn time just to perfect his rap, and Jihoon can’t help but concede. After all, how can he resist the urge of wanting to perfect all the tracks they composed?

“You looked like you were in deep thought. What were you thinking about?” Seungcheol asks casually, his smile growing wider as he now grins at Jihoon. Jihoon hates it when Seungcheol starts noticing things at the wrong time. His hyung has incredibly  _ terrible  _ timing, Jihoon thinks briefly.

“What makes you think I was thinking about something?” Jihoon asks, his voice coming out as oddly strangled sounding. He cringes inwardly at it. It sounded so forced and odd, even the ever oblivious Hansol would notice what was wrong.

“So were you thinking about a _ ‘someone’ _ ?” Seungcheol asks in a smug tone. The other boy is grinning at him and Jihoon can tell that without even needing to look at him. 

“...No.” He chooses to say after a beat of silence.

“... _ Hey, _ ” Seungcheol says in a scolding voice, “I won’t push it  _ too _ much but, you can tell me, you know.” The other boy’s voice gradually softening as he reaches the end of his sentence. Almost empathetic. They’ve known each other for years; seen all the blood, sweat and tears they’ve poured into their training--there’s little to no reason to hide anything from Seungcheol.

“...It’s not that anything  _ is _ bothering me. Nothing’s wrong, hyung.”

“Jihoonie, you’ve been acting all sorts of weird lately…” Seungcheol starts, sounding worried. Jihoon appreciates it-- _ he really does _ , but right now what he needed was time and to focus on work. Work is enough of a distraction for him right now. He doesn’t need to mope over his non-existent love life. He can’t bring the other members down just because of his petty affections for Seungcheol.

“I don’t think any of the other members noticed... _ yet _ ,” Seungcheol says carefully after a few moments of just dead silence.

“What do you mean I’ve been acting weird lately?” Jihoon asks instead, trying to steer the subject.

“You’re just--staring off more than usual, and you mumble weird stuff in your sleep, too.” Seungcheol says, sounding worried and sad. Jihoon takes a moment to look at Seungcheol at that, taking in the whole scene. Seungcheol’s face was all  _ strange _ , his mouth stretched down to a frown, something he’ll never really get used to nowadays--Seungcheol smiling had become so normal to him that he’d forgotten what a frown on the other’s face looked like--and his eyebrows furrowed, as if slightly angry, maybe at Jihoon or maybe even himself. But Jihoon needs Seungcheol to know it isn’t  _ his _ fault. 

And just like that, Jihoon knows what he has to do, as Seungcheol’s friend.

He smiles, pulling the corners of his lips up and stretching them, making sure to crinkle his eyes--to make it all so  _ realistic. _ It won’t be the same as pretending in front of a camera, because it’s not for the fans--this is for his friend, his hyung. It’ll be different, and he knows it. He can’t let one of his members start worrying about him, not now. 

Another time,  _ maybe _ .

“You don’t have to worry about me, Seungcheol. I’m  _ fine _ .”

Seungcheol looks at him wordlessly, with that almost identical look of ‘I don’t know if I believe this or not’ that the other members had shown him so many times. Jihoon softens for a moment, wanting to burst and just tell everything, but he doesn’t. He keeps his mouth shut.

“But thank you for worrying anyway. I appreciate it, Seungcheol.”

“Hoonie...you can talk to us, okay?” Seungcheol says again, almost pleading Jihoon to just tell him what’s wrong, and Jihoon does want to tell him. But right now wasn’t a good time. Even if Seungcheol calls him ‘Hoonie’ or any other endearment, he can’t give in. “We won’t say anything, we’ll just listen to you,” Seungcheol tries again, his tone of voice desperate. 

“I know you don’t believe me Seungcheol, but _ trust me _ \--I’m fine and I’ve got everything in control.” 

His voice is reassuring, he knows that--because for a moment, he thinks he’s fine too. Funny, he’s not really fine. Seungcheol looks conflicted, between believing in his fellow member or not and then trying to find out what’s really wrong. Jihoon hopes for it to be the former.

“I’ll let you go this time, Jihoonie. But I’m still here for you, okay?” Seungcheol says, all the fight gone in his voice. There’s a certain quality that’s in his voice at the last part that makes Jihoon want to hug him so badly, and so he does. 

He embraces the older boy, smiling slightly as he finds himself smaller. “You’re becoming more and more mature. You’re finally acting your age,” Jihoon says jokingly, and Seungcheol laughs, and Jihoon can hear it when he presses his head against the younger boy’s chest. It’s just pure warmth to be loved and cared for, Jihoon realizes, and all of a sudden he feels happy.

“You know that right?” Seungcheol’s voice cuts into his thoughts. Jihoon wasn’t listening to any of what Seungcheol said a few seconds ago, and he had absolutely no idea what the other was talking about, but he still agrees anyway.

“...Yeah, I know. I know, Seungcheol.” 

“No matter what happens, we will be beside you. And we will always be like a family.” Seungcheol says, voice soft, “You always have us.”

“...Yeah!”

There’s a soft laughter in his voice, and a vulnerability to the way he was acting right now, something he’d usually not show anyone--not even Seungcheol, but he knows that he can show it to the other members. He’s not alone in this--he has them, too. Remembering that moment when they all gathered around the campfire a few days before their debut--how he’d confessed his worries and his anxiety of not being enough to support them all. 

And he wasn’t alone. He never was. He’s got 12 other members--his friends. His  _ family _ . They were all fighting and doing their best, for all of them to succeed. He is  _ not _ alone in this fight.

“I love you, hyung.”

Words he really mean to say are said, and right now that’s all that matters--despite all the pride in him telling him to  _ walk away, _ and just leave and not talk to the other--he says it. Because Seungcheol deserves to at least  _ know _ that  _ from _ Jihoon.

“I love you too.” The older says, grinning at Jihoon. It elicits a chuckle from the younger boy, who buries himself deeper into Seungcheol’s embrace, deciding to just enjoy the moment as it is there--just for now. 

“...You don’t really understand it at all, hyung.”

_ When summer leaves, it is a farewell to the chirping cicadas and the sweltering heat of the day. The time when all emotions are toned down to a conclusion. It is merely the interlude of a play; when cliffhanger conclusions are posed so perfectly--and when we continue on to the next act, we can see the dynamic of each character as they mature even more. The end of summer can either reveal a small glimpse of who we really are, or strip us so bare for anyone to see. _


	4. distractions from things we don't want to see

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will post a new one....soon.

**Yellow Hyacinths**

Autumn, Year XXXX

It started a few weeks ago. Maybe even farther than that and Jihoon just didn’t notice or know and nobody bothered to tell him that what he had seen with his own two eyes was actually happening. It didn’t feel real, but it  _ was. _

‘ _ It’s just fanservice,’ _ he thinks to himself, desperately trying to calm the alarm bells ringing in his head. His head feels faint, and there’s that familiar taste of bile in the back of his throat. He wants to curl up in a ball and just hide. It’s not supposed to make him feel like his lungs failed him, shriveling up like grapes in the sun--when Jihoon  _ knows _ . He knows that this isn’t real--that it’s just an act. Seungcheol doesn’t love Jeonghan--not in the way that most fans think--but why does it feel like his heart is sinking?

“Hey hyung,” 

The voice surprises him. Jihoon turns his head to the source of the sound and finds himself face-to-face with Hansol. Forcing his lips to a smile, he immediately acts like he hadn’t been disturbed by the scene playing in front of him. Hansol stares with mild amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“Don’t pretend around me, hyung. I may be bad at acting myself, but I can easily see through others when they fake stuff around me.” Hansol chides, a small grin on his face. Jihoon immediately drops the smile on his face.

“Am I that obvious?” 

“You?” The other asks, his tone incredulous, “ _ Hah _ , no.” The younger boy turns away, looking at the other side of the room, where Seungkwan and Seokmin were laughing and chatting with each other. 

“It’s almost time for the fansign.” Their manager says loudly, and Jihoon faintly remembers that he’s at a fanmeet, and he shouldn’t be so focused on Seungcheol and Jeonghan--but to the fans who were about to see him.

So he shoves the thoughts away, and tucks them in a safe box in the back of his mind. He clears his throat and blinks his eyes, before finally composing himself. Their manager signals them, meaning that the fansign has officially started. The manager gives them a look, a look that says ‘ _ don’t fuck this up _ ’ and Jihoon bows his head slowly.

Fans pour in, and Jihoon smiles at them, making sure he wasn’t acting weird, that everything was fine. Reality was that he was peachy-- _ really peachy _ .

He endures the feeling throughout the fansign, pointedly ignoring Seungcheol and Jeonghan--were seated next to each other--and their nauseous bromance. He doesn’t like it one bit.

The fansign ends in a blur of fans and faces and voices meshed altogether. Jihoon doesn’t think too much about it, but he keeps in mind the fan’s support and love by coming to their fanmeet. He doesn’t want to let them down. He loves his fans--their fans, but he just can’t seem to get his mind off Seungcheol and Jeonghan. Not jealous at all, he thinks to himself.

Maybe he just hadn’t noticed it before, but they were really affectionate with each other. Since when did that even start happening? There’s an unpleasant, ugly feeling coiling in Jihoon’s stomach.

Jihoon blinks, and tears his eyes away from the other two. He looks for Hansol, his eyes darting around the room. His gaze locks on the said male who was situated near the table with refreshments on it, happily munching on a snack. Jihoon quickly walks to him, his legs oddly feeling like jelly. Hansol’s eyes turn to Jihoon as he approaches, and Hansol turns his body to the older male to greet him.

“Hey hyung.”

“About what you said earlier. Is it normal for people to think that it would just be normal of me to frown at my fellow members for no reason?” Jihoon muses, turning to the table as he plucks a packet of biscuit and proceeds to open it.

“What?” Hansol asks, turning to look at him with disbelieving eyes, “No--it’s not that,” the younger male starts, and Jihoon can see the gears in Hansol’s head turn as he scrambles for a good explanation.

“Then what? What exactly?” Jihoon presses.

Hansol scrunches his eyebrows together, his lips pressed tight as if in thought. The snack the younger male was almost completely forgotten now, just lying on the table where Hansol had left it. Jihoon chuckles, then bites through a biscuit. It tastes fine, like any other biscuit he’d buy from any convenience store.

“It’s just that… I can tell.” Hansol says after a few minutes, “I know love when I see it,” Jihoon rolls his eyes. He takes another biscuit and bites it. The taste of it is still bland on his tongue, but Jihoon eats it anyway.

“That’s  _ really _ specific of you, Hansol-yah.” Jihoon says sarcastically, shaking his head gently.

“Hyung…what I really want to say is this,” Hansol starts, turning to face Jihoon, his face calm and serious, eyes boring into Jihoon that it sort of intimidated him, “When you love someone, you don’t get in the way of their happiness, right? You let go of them because you’re not what they want--is that what you’re doing?”

“...I don’t understand what you’re getting to.” Jihoon says, and it’s not technically a truth, but not technically a lie either. He had a hunch on what Hansol was talking about, but he doesn’t want to consider it. Hansol sighs, running his hands through his hair and groaning as he realized he would most likely get scolded for ruining his hair that the stylists worked hard on.

“You love Seungcheol-hyung, right?” 

Jihoon freezes in place. The half-eaten biscuit in Jihoon’s hand breaks when Jihoon drops it. Jihoon scrambles to pick the pieces up, knowing that leaving a place that they used dirty would give them a bad reputation. He refuses to meet Hansol’s eyes. They bore through Jihoon like he was an open book and Hansol could see everything.

“Who told you.” 

“No one important. In fact,  _ nobody _ did. I just assumed based on what I’ve observed.” Hansol puts bluntly, shrugging his shoulders like it was nothing. Hansol doesn’t meet his eyes like he has something to hide, and Jihoon puts one and another together and he gets it. 

The older male looks down to his shoes, breathing harshly through his nose before looking up. The sound of the air whipping through is a harsh sound. In the corner of Jihoon’s eye, he sees Hansol flinch ever so slightly.

“Seungkwan told you, didn’t he?” 

Hansol whips his head up, staring at Jihoon with a fierce look. 

“Are you going to scold him for it? Punish him?” Hansol then asks, keeping his voice leveled, although looking like he was willing to fight Jihoon if Seungkwan was the one to be punished, “It’s not his fault, hyung. I forced him to tell me.”

Jihoon almost laughs, because no--he wasn’t going to punish Seungkwan for telling Hansol. Afterall, he knew that Seungkwan could never really say no to Hansol. It was no secret to him that Seungkwan held feelings for this boy. 

“I’m not going to scold or punish him, Hansol-yah.” Jihoon says quietly, so that Hansol would be the only one to hear it. Fights between members were something that was kept secret in their group, something that they didn’t really want their fans to witness or hear of. 

Hansol blinks, opening his mouth to say something before he looked at Jihoon with a surprised look. Jihoon chuckles, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looks at Hansol’s ‘gaping fish’ expression.

“You’re not the type of person who would forgive so easily, hyung.” Hansol remarks slowly, his expression still holding his shock. Jihoon smiles, almost bitterly.

“That’s because you only think that,” Jihoon says. They don’t really know him at all, and can Jihoon blame them, really? All those years of training together, he’d kept them all at a distance, never really letting them inside the walls he’d built carefully around himself. He can’t really expect them to know...much of anything. 

“You don’t really know me, Hansol-yah.”

“Then tell me about yourself.” Hansol presses, looking genuinely curious. “I care, hyung. I won’t judge you either. I’m pretty much cool with whatever you’ll tell me.” The younger boy sounds so sincere. 

“It’s a long story.” Jihoon says. 

He does want to tell someone other than Seungkwan. More than anything, he just wants to let it out. It’s an opportunity for Hansol, really. To know better about his hyung that he’d been living and training and now performing with, for years. Jihoon lets him take it, like an open door just tilting just right for tempting others to come in.

“Hyung, I’ve watched tv shows with 12 seasons and 23 episodes each. I think I can listen to long stories just fine.” Hansol smiles. 

Jihoon stares at the younger boy for a while in silence before finally succumbing. 

“Alright, so…”

Hansol's look of concern and empathy after Jihoon tells him is something the older dislikes. He does not want to be pitied because of his feelings for Seungcheol. His feelings for Seungcheol are something he treasures, and something he hopes he does not regret, no matter what happens. 

_ Autumn is a fleeting one. The death of the leaves as they turn to shades of yellow and auburn orange, cascading to the ground, is an art in itself. We witness some sort of change--a realization. And it is only the calm before the storm, the stillness of the wind before the thundering of the rain. _

  
  



	5. we all have secrets to keep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so...hehe. please enjoy! Await for the next chapter with bated breath ! hahaHAHh

**Marigolds and Monkshoods**

There was a reason as to why Jihoon was afraid of the others knowing his sexuality. There was a reason as to why he kept to himself, being very careful of who he was with and his own actions and words. It was something he never spoke of to anyone, not even Seungcheol. 

**Winter, Year XXXX**

Jihoon sat on a chair in a dingy, plain white room with a long, rectangular table made of glass with a chair on the opposite end of his. There was a clock on the wall, and it was so silent that Jihoon could hear the tick-tock as the arms of the clock moved. 

He was called by their manager for something that was classified as important, and Jihoon couldn’t help but worry. Why was he here? Had he done something wrong? Is he about to get cut? The anxiety was slowly chipping him away as time passed them even more. 

The door on the other side opens, and the manager comes in. Jihoon stands up to greet her.

“Manager-nim,” Jihoon says in a low voice, bowing 90 degrees to show his respect. He was terrified of what was about to be discussed. 

“Jihoon-ssi,” The other acknowledges, smiling at him. To Jihoon, it looks like a tight-lipped smile. There is a file in her hand, Jihoon notices. What was this all really about? The noise of the manager’s heels as she walks around to pulls her chair and and sit down is enough to silence the tick-tock sound of the clock. It fades away, almost as if it were never really there.

“Why did you ask for me to come here alone instead of discussing it with the other members?” Jihoon asks as he sits down on his chair, voice a little hesitant. 

“It is something that concerns only you, Jihoon-ssi,” The manager says, her voice low. “Something that I think both you and I know of.”

Jihoon feels his blood run cold.

“It’s about your... _ preferences _ .” The manager says, squinting her eyes into beady little dots as she struggled to find a word to describe Jihoon’s sexuality. Jihoon just nods slowly,  his mouth a tight line.

“My attraction to...those of the same gender, you mean?” The words fall out of Jihoon’s mouth without him thinking, and the manager looks at him and nods, the expression on her face grim, as if she were talking about something terrible, like a murder.

“Did I do something wrong? Wasn’t I careful enough?” Jihoon asks carefully.

“You know it’s  _ wrong _ , Jihoon. To be attracted to those of the same gender? It makes no sense--it’s disgusting!” The words pierce Jihoon more than they should. 

‘The exact same line,’ Jihoon thinks. The exact same line his mother told him all those years ago, when he’d come out to her, all those years ago in highschool.

_ “Mom, I have something to say.” Young, pubescent Jihoon had dark brown hair and  long bangs that just barely framed his eyes. He stood there in his mother’s office awkwardly, shuffling his feet around. He looks at her with a determined look in his eyes. _

_ “Go on, Jihoon. I can’t waste more time on this.” His mother was a stern one, never taking her eyes off her laptop screen as she spoke. Her hair had a similar shade to Jihoon’s, but much lighter.  _

_ “I think...I’m gay.” The words fall out of his mouth, not quite as he’d rehearsed in one of the company’s bathroom, but it got the message through. Jihoon was terrified, of course. Homosexuality wasn’t exactly common or accepted in their society, so when he found out he had preferred males over females, he’d debated whether telling his mother or not. Evidently, he’d ended with the former choice. _

_ “What did you say?” Jihoon flinched at his mother’s tone, menacing and almost threatening. _

_ “You know it’s wrong, Jihoon! To be attracted to those of the same gender? It makes no sense--it’s disgusting!” His mother reeled, hissing out the words as if they were poison on her tongue. There was a disgusted look on her face--her eyebrows drawn together, her eyes glaring at Jihoon with disdain and hate. _

_ “But--” _

_ “Shut your mouth! You are so filthy--how could you go thinking of people of the same gender like that? You are not a girl, you are a boy. A boy is supposed to love a girl, and a boy loving another boy or a girl loving another girl is disgusting and a homo!” The words fall out of her mouth like arrows firing at Jihoon. It hurt. _

_ “No--” _

_ “It’s because of that other boy you’ve been hanging around more often, isn’t it? He must be the the one influencing you, tainting you--” _

It was a long time ago, and it was something that he most likely will not forget. Not any soon with his mother’s voice still ringing in his ears.

“Jihoon-yah,” The manager starts, clearing her throat. Jihoon guesses she must have been talking for quite a while, and noticed that Jihoon wasn’t listening or processing anything. He looks at her this time, meeting her eyes. 

“I’m listening.” He says quietly, just enough for the other to hear. The tick-tock of the clock is faintly coming back, and Jihoon turns his head to stare at the clock on the wall absentmindedly. He doesn’t want to look at the manager’s face. He scratches his fingers unconsciously.

“You better be.” The manager warns, her tone irritated. Jihoon turns his head to look at her. He can’t act like an idiot--he can’t get cut. They need him--SEVENTEEN needs him. If he leaves now, he knows that the debut won’t go well and--he doesn’t want to think about it. 

He can’t let the others down when they’re depending so much on him. Not now, not ever. 

“How did you know of my...preferences?” He decides to ask instead. His voice is coming out shaky, and he hates it, but he holds his head high. The manager’s eyes are cold and empty, and Jihoon can’t seem to find ay sort of hint or clue in them. 

“I questioned your mother.” The older replies easily, her eyes flitting to the file on the table. She moves her hand to open it, revealing what looked like identity records. Jihoon’s identity records. He hears his own breath hitch in his throat.

“...When?” 

“Yesterday.” The manager says carefully, her eyes flitting back to Jihoon from the papers on the table surface, “I thought you were acting a little  _ too close _ with one of the members. I had suspicions.” She’s smirking like the cat who got the milk, and Jihoon can tell without looking. There’s a tone in her voice that makes Jihoon want to slap her. He doesn’t do it.

“Why did you decide to ask her instead of me?” He asks.

“Because I know you’d try to lie about it.” She says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, “Don’t take me for a fool, Jihoon-ssi. I know exactly how desperate and hopeful you are to debut, and how much you are willing to sacrifice just to be able to.” She smiles in Jihoon’s direction. Jihoon stares, not returning her smile.

“You’re not sure of that.” Jihoon scoffs, feigning ignorance.

“Oh but I am.” The manager smiles, her teeth showing. It reminded Jihoon of a shark. 

“How so?”

“Because you care about the others too much. You always think of others before yourself, Jihoon-yah. That’s a quality that will drag you down in a world like ours.” The manager looks at him with sympathetically mocking eyes. Jihoon bites his lip to avoid saying something that he would regret.

Jihoon knows that the manager is right. The idol world was a cruel world, with everyone always waiting for the moment to snatch the spotlight. Being generous and kind were qualities that were mostly staged, and never truly genuine. Compliments just for the sake of it, and blind siding with powerful, influential people. Manipulative entertainment companies. No one in the idol world was ever really safe.

“You care about Seungcheol, and everyone else. You know exactly how much they’ve been waiting for the debut. If you fuck up now, they’ll blame you. And hate you. And resent you.” The manager taunts, the grin on her face seemingly getting wider. She laughs a little before continuing, “And because you care so much about them, you’re willing to do anything. It’s  _ really _ funny, for you to be an idol with attachments like that.”

The manager laughs rambunctiously this time, and Jihoon doesn’t look at her. He looks to his hands instead, trying to blink back the tears threatening to form. The manager laughs for some time, and then stops, almost abruptly. She then clears her throat.

“You should start thinking of yourself, Jihoon-yah.” Her mocking tone makes Jihoon want to rip her hair out. He hates her.

"So I've decided to be kind enough to not inform anyone of your...preferences." The manager chirps happily.

Jihoon looks up this time, and finds the manager smiling at him. ‘It’s almost convincing, how she smiles at him like she really does care,’ Jihoon thinks. But in the end, he knows that it all comes down to the money. It’s always the money.

“There’s something else you want, isn’t there?” Jihoon asks, voice low and shaky. He breathes in, one, two, three. 

“I’m glad you’re picking up signals much quicker today!” The manager claps her hands together, smiling at Jihoon, “And yes, I do want something. Everybody has to want something, don’t they?” Her tone and facial expression is suggestive, and Jihoon immediately wants to run from her, as far away as he can. He doesn’t like the look that the older female gives.

“...What do you want...from me?” 

“Nothing too much. You’ll enjoy it.” She smiles, and Jihoon doesn’t want to believe it. He holds his breath for the catch. 

The manager stands from her seat slowly, then saunters to Jihoon's side of the table. Jihoon sits still, despite the anger, frustration and fear that he felt. He can't mess up. 

The older female caresses his hair carefully, almost petting him. Jihoon does not dare move. She leans over him, so close that he can feel the older's breath tickling his neck and make his hairs stand.

“After all, you’re a little unwanted homo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ily yall dont worry


	6. of the past; the vague reason

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so.........belATED MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YALL!!! this is my smol.....present to all ye readers

**Dead Leaves and Oleanders**

Early Summer, Year XXXX

Jihoon thinks that Seungcheol doesn’t notice. The first few weeks that he comes home with bruises, he prepares himself for the questions that he knows will come bombarding him in the morning.

Questions of ‘where did you go’ and ‘why do you come home so late’ are asked by concerned members and he lets the lie slip past his lips easily just like he had rehearsed over and over again until it sounded just right.

It never feels right, to lie at them like this. Especially when they all trust him so much--it makes Jihoon feel guilty. He thinks of telling them, one day--just not now. Telling them now would earn him a lot of consequences.

Jihoon looks at himself in the mirror in the now empty practice room. The other members have all filed out, to return back to the dorm after a tiring, and almost endless chain of practicing just to get the choreography right. He stares at himself in the mirror. _He doesn’t look different, does he?_

“Jihoon-yah,” A familiar voice calls out, resonating through the room. Jihoon turns around, already knowing who to expect. It’s a lot like stepping on the stage of some play, where Jihoon already knows his lines--memorized them even, but never by heart. Not when his heart knows something completely different. There’s a small, tired smile on his face before he even knows it.

“Hyung.” Jihoon’s voice is small. He wants to berate himself for not answering more clearly.

“Why are you still here?” Seungcheol asks, leaning against the door, arms crossed against his chest and suddenly Jihoon feels like a small child caught staying up late. Seungcheol doesn’t have the stern expression Jihoon knows he gives to the other members when scolding them lightly.

“Why are _you_?” Jihoon shoots back, looking away. He doesn’t want to look in Seungcheol’s eyes right now. He doesn’t know if he can handle it.

“I didn’t see you come outside.” Seungcheol says tiredly, and Jihoon realizes that he’s keeping Seungcheol form going back to the dorm. He feels guilty for worrying Seungcheol when he shouldn’t. Jihoon was just fine.

“Don’t worry about me hyung. I’ll come to the dorm later.” Jihoon shrugs, fiddling around with his outfit and trying out a few dance moves, faking confusion and frustration. “I can’t seem to get this move right. I’ll just practice on it and I’ll be back before you know it.”

He doesn’t look at Seungcheol who sighs and scratches his head.

“Fine. Just come back before 4am, okay?” Seungcheol says, before standing up properly and closing the door softly. Jihoon almost immediately drops the act. He sighs into his hands as he buries his face with it. He’s so tired, so tired--but he can’t.

He puts his hands down and stares at the mirror again. His reflection stares back at him, unblinking. There’s something about his reflection that seems off. Jihoon walks closer. Then he finally sees it.

The purple and green tint to some parts of his skin, on his arms and on his neck. Jihoon squints to get a better look, hand raised to touch them. There are bruises matted on his skin, poorly covered by concealer and foundation and a bit of powder.

‘I’m filthy,’ He thinks to himself, remembering all the times his own body was violated, stretched and bended and broken over and over until he couldn’t even really feel anything anymore. He remembers coming home, feeling sore all over--but the lie slips past his lips so easily like he wasn’t hurting.

_“Fucking filthy piece of shit you are, Jihoon-yah.”  The man behind him laughs, and Jihoon can smell the scent of cigars from his breath. Before he can reel away in disgust, the man grabs a fistful of his hair, licking and kissing up his neck. Jihoon opens his mouth to scream--“You deserve this you faggot. This is for your own good!”_

The tears prickle his eyes. Seungcheol wouldn’t love him now--not when he’s been used like this. Jihoon hates to admit it, but he knows he’s used goods. That no one will ever love him now, now that he’s a fucking slut. Seungcheol would hate him. They’d all hate him. The other members would tell him he’s disgusting, worthless and--

The door to the room clicks, and Jihoon quickly wipes his tears away, whirling around to see who it is.

“Jihoon-yah.” It’s just the manager, “Are you ready for tonight’s session, darling?” With her usual shark-like smile. Jihoon doesn’t even try to fight back--it’s useless, he knows that. He’s thought of it too many times, trying to figure out a loophole. But there isn’t, really.

He nods. It’s not like he can say anything otherwise anyways.

“I hope you are. Today’s session is a little different, darling.” The manager says chirpily, almost as if excited. Jihoon dreads what awaits him beyond the doors of Pledis Entertainment. He follows the manager wordlessly, keeping his head down.

They walk out of the building, and Jihoon breathes in slowly. He’s scared, even if it’s not the first time that the manager had dragged him to her little night adventures, threatening to tell the CEO of his sexuality and expose him. Jihoon hates it--he hates himself for giving in so easily when he could have asked for help. But then again, who could he have turned to?

There was no one.

“We’re here.”

They’ve stopped in front of an old, broken-down house. Jihoon looks around and finds himself in a part of the city that he’s never really been to, until that is--the manager started forcing him to come along with her. The shady part of the city.

The street lights are more dim here, Jihoon notes. There’s almost no one to be seen in the street, only the cat and the beggars littering here and there. Jihoon feels a sinking feeling in his chest. He doesn’t like where this is going--he’s never liked going with the manager in the first place.

‘That bitch,’ Jihoon thinks. Clenching his hands into fists as he remembers the words the manager told him that day.

_“After all, you’re a little unwanted homo.” The manager whispers in his ear, and Jihoon can feel the smirk on her face on his ear. He can smell the familiar scent of makeup--concealer and blush. He almost recoils in disgust._

_“But I have an offer to extend to you.” The manager says suddenly. She abruptly stands up straight, and raises a finger to her mouth as if considering something. Jihoon looks at her, almost hopefully._

_“What…?” He asks carefully. His voice low and apprehensive. He’s not expecting anything, but god--he’s hopeful. Too hopeful._

_The manager pauses in her movements, her eyes slowly turning to Jihoon. She smiles at him, this time almost genuine that Jihoon was about to believe it. The glint in her eyes that Jihoon catches is what snaps him back to reality. ‘She’s not to be trusted,’ He thinks to himself._

_Don’t trust her._

_“You see, I too--was a poor soul like you. I liked women,” The older woman starts carefully, slowly walking towards the other end of the small, dingy room, where her chair was. Once she reaches the other end of the table, she grabs her chair and plops herself down on it, a somber expression on her face.  She continues, “I too--was a trainee.”_

_There’s a pause before she says anything else. Jihoon holds his breath._

_“So now I’m trying to help.” The manager finishes, opening her eyes and looking at Jihoon with calculated eyes. Jihoon still doesn’t trust her despite her offer of help._

_“How exactly are you going to help me?” He decides to ask instead._

_The manager only smiles widely. There’s a mischievous glint to her eye when she says, “A magician never reveals her tricks.”_

_“How can I trust you?” He asks again. He can’t go accepting offers without knowing if he could trust the person. Jihoon feels scared, honestly. His skin is close to ripping because of all the scratching he did. The scratching his skin till it bled was a habit he developed years ago, and now that it’s coming back--it just means that Jihoon is honestly really fucking terrified. He doesn’t know what’ll happen if he refuses._

_The manager smiles her shark-like smile again, and Jihoon feels a chill run up his spine._

_“You have to! I mean--you wouldn’t want our dear CEO to know of your--our, little secret, now would we?” She says, smirking at him from across the table, smugly holding out her hand. Jihoon wants to slap her hand away and scrub the smirk off her face with a grater. He grits his teeth instead._

_“...No.” He murmurs, barely getting the word out of his mouth._

_“Then you’ll just have to agree with me!”_

Jihoon remembers shaking hands with her, sealing their little deal. He remembers the first night the manager dragged him out--forcing him to make the excuse of trying to come up with new lyrics at the studio to the other members; and to smile at them like there was nothing wrong. Like he wasn’t fucking terrified.

“Jihoon-yah.” The manager calls, and Jihoon is immediately dragged out of his thoughts. He turns to her. The said older woman is at the door of the old, broken-down house, gesturing at him to come in with her hand. Jihoon starts walking towards her. She seems to be grinning widely, her eyes a little glazed. Almost as if she were…

Jihoon is 5 cm away when he smells something funny. He can’t quite put a finger on what the scent is--and he can’t seem to describe it properly in words. It’s something he’d never smelt before. A hand on his arm drags him inside the house and before Jihoon knows it, the door is shut behind him, and the funny scent is _everywhere._

It’s _suffocating_. Instinctively, he raises his hands to cover his nose and mouth.

“Don’t be such a fucking pussy, Jihoon-yah.” The manager scoffs, rolling her eyes as she pries Jihoon’s hands away from his nose and mouth. She wobbles from one foot to another, seemingly not able to find any sort of balance. “A sniff woooon’t fucking kiiill you.”

He sees it now, as he stares at the manager with wide eyes. Her eyes are glazed and faintly red, and the way she was slurring and wobbling from one foot to the other--she was high.

Jihoon wants to run--to escape and never see or speak of it again. He doesn’t want this, he never wanted this--he just can’t. If he gets caught being involved with drugs and weed, there’ll be trouble.

“Why are we here? Do you realize how much trouble we’ll be in if we get caught here?” Jihoon wants to scream at the older woman, but he knows he can’t do that--not when she’s high and she’s the only one who knows how to get from here, then back to the dorm. He’s exasperated, tired and panicked. He starts scratching his arms unconsciously.

“Whooo the fuck careees?” The older woman slurs, “I don’t! I have Carl here with me and as long as he’s here, I wouldn’t give a single fuck about anything else!”

‘She’s delusional--there’s literally no one else here...right?’ Jihoon thinks, taking a quick glance around the room. The smoke is coming from the second floor of the house--which means someone is probably upstairs--rolling down the stairs in an almost picturesque way if the smoke weren’t coming from burnt illegal weed.

Jihoon is suddenly reminded of the fact that he’s breathing smoke right now. Smoke from burnt weed. _Shit._

_I’m going to get caught--_

“Fuck, fuck, fuck--I can’t do this. I’m going home--” He starts, taking two steps backwards. It’s all too much to handle. The smoke, the manager, the way the world seemed to be spinning and everything was emphasized--as if he was experiencing things for the first time. It’s overwhelming and terrifying.

He turns the knob on the door and runs out of the door, forgetting to close it. He runs back to Pledis Entertainment building, using only mere memory to get there. It takes him about 26 minutes to get there--which is almost a miracle, since he doesn’t usually run that fast.

Jihoon stops in front of the building, bending over to catch his breath. The sound of his harsh breathing is almost enough to send him on edge, ripping his hair off.

‘Calm down,’ He thinks to himself desperately.

It takes him a whole 5 minutes to calm down. When he does, he walks in the company doors like he was normal. He walks to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He pauses to breathe in. Then he breathes out.

He opens the faucet tap, washing his hands thoroughly. He washes his arms and his face, scrubbing them with extra force, trying to get the scent off his skin. He hates it--he hates that he’s become this filthy. His hands are shaking.

_Filthy._

He feels dizzy, like the earth suddenly changed its gravitational force from 9.8 to 4.0 because _god_ \--he feels so light, like he’s floating high up in space. He can’t seem to grasp anything, his fingers suddenly becoming numb, all the blood rushing in it gone. He settles for sitting down on the bathroom floor, arms out wide, feeling nothing but numbness.

Jihoon sits there for a long time.

‘ _There’s a beat on loop here,_ ’ he thinks to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i............am sorry its kinda messy i kinda rushed it??? aaaaaa;;;; i might edit it later though. but i'll post this for now


	7. back to the now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :------) my gift to you for new years!!!!! cheers everyone!! I thank all of my dear sweet readers for sticking with me and my story since last year! You all are so sweet;;; im----
> 
> Anyways, let me present you this new chapter!

**Magenta Zinnias and Chrysanthemums**

Early spring, Year XXXX

She was arrested. Their now former manager was arrested for having been caught smoking on illegal weed a few days after the incident. ‘She was found in an abandoned warehouse with other hooligans smoking and snorting pitifully,’ the reporter said, and everyone who had been listening to the news froze in shock and surprise. Soft gasps could be heard, and hands came up to cover their mouth.

The idea of their manager having done such an illegal act that the country so despised, was almost unfathomable to them—impossible, even. But Jihoon knew better. He knew that the woman, their _oh-so-beloved_ and _sweet_ manager, was not all she seemed. When Jihoon closes his eyes he can still remember the feel of her nails marking half-moons on his skin; her grip on his hips that often made bruises as she fucked Jihoon with a strap-on and all sorts of other toys.

He hates it. He hates her. He hates himself.

The memory of the terrible woman was painted in the back of his eyelids, haunting him and terrifying him to no end. He loses sleep, afraid that when he closes his eyes the memory of the manager would come for him, and afraid that he would suddenly be awoken by their former manager shaking his arm and looking at him with wild, bloodshot eyes.

The bruises on his skin have not healed completely yet, no. They have a dark purple and green tint to it, coloring Jihoon’s skin, littering in patches ranging from big ones to small ones. There are times when the other members reach for him and press against the bruises under his shirt or pants, and Jihoon tries his best not to wince in pain. They don’t really hurt—just sore. They’re _healing_. That’s what he tells himself, at least.

Jihoon stands in front of the practice room’s mirror after all the others have left, staring at his reflection as if it were an unknown being. There are dark circles under his eyes, an effect from his lack of sleep. It’s been a long day for them all, practicing and practicing endlessly to improve, be better—vocal lessons, dance lessons, quick breaks, they never seemed to stop. Jihoon isn’t really bothered by the seemingly endless cycle of tasks; after all, it’s been years that he’s done this.

“Hyung,”

Jihoon looks away from his reflection in the mirror and settles his eyes on the source of the voice. There are three people in the room with him—Chan, Hansol and Seungkwan. Chan was the youngest of the whole group. The said youngest male looked at Jihoon with cautious eyes; almost as if he was worried that the older male would fall over at the slightest provocation.

“Dino-yah…Hansol-yah…Seungkwan-yah. What do you want?”

All of it feels so automatic, like it wasn’t Jihoon really saying those things. Like his mind was just running on autopilot, relying on certain patterns that it could recognize and respond to them, and most of all, muscle memory to move and act.

They all looked at Jihoon with sad and worried eyes, but there was a hint of something else behind them. ‘Determination,’ Jihoon discerned. Hansol and Seungkwan look at Jihoon with a worried but all too knowing look. The youngest male fidgets with his feet before finally opening his mouth to say what he wanted to say.

“I noticed something off about you today,” Chan starts carefully, looking at Jihoon with a look he didn’t recognize. “Actually,” The male then adds quickly, “I’ve noticed it for a long time now.” Chan’s voice grew even quieter at the end of his sentence. The younger male quickly looks down, almost as if guilty for something, and Jihoon is surprised, mostly touched, that the younger male had noticed.

“We just…wanted to know what was bothering you.”

Jihoon breathes in deeply through his nose, and then breathes out through his mouth, pushing the air out of his lungs.

“You damn maknae line,” Jihoon growls out half-heartedly, and for a moment the other males flinch very visibly, afraid. Jihoon feels a twitch in the corners of his mouth. He smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“You always notice things first, don’t you?” Jihoon looks at them, the sad smile still plastered on his face like poorly pasted cut-out paper. There’s a small warm feeling in his chest, grabbing his heart and seemingly squeezing it, and it took Jihoon a lot of willpower not to cry. He wasn’t going to cry about something so small—he’s had enough of _crying so much_.

“Hyung,” Seungkwan called out, his voice sounding so empathetic. Jihoon blinks his eyes and realizes that the tears were pooling already, so ready to just fall from his eyes and start rolling down his cheeks. ‘That’s why it was so blurry,’ Jihoon thinks absent-mindedly.

“Remember what I said, hyung.” Hansol says insistently, walking forward and raising his hands to wipe the tears away with his sleeve. Seungkwan makes a small sound of protest at Hansol’s almost intimate gesture. Jihoon rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

“I know. I remember. But you know, you _know_ —you know why I don’t want to tell them.” Jihoon murmurs, loud enough for the others to hear; he then adds, “I can’t tell them.”

He looks at the younger males of the room one by one, pleading with his eyes for them not to pry too much. Talking about it will only make it _worse._ Talking about her and what she did and what she forced Jihoon to do--it was too much to handle right now. _‘Not right now,’_ he thinks.

Jihoon hears an exasperated sigh from Seungkwan. He looks at the younger male wearily, not wanting to discuss it. Seungkwan rolls his eyes.

“Jihoon-hyung,” Seungkwan starts, his voice holding a particularly bold tone, “I know for a fact that what you’re saying is an excuse and it is a load of _bullshit._ ” Both Hansol and Chan show shock at Seungkwan’s statement and crude word choice, their mouths hanging open in shock as they turned to look at the oldest of their trio.

“Seung—“ Hansol starts, about to intervene. Seungkwan hushes him, a determined expression on his face.

“Hush, Hansol-yah. You know that I’m only saying what’s right.” Seungkwan says, looking at Hansol with a knowing expression on his face, eyebrows both raised and mouth curled tightly.

“I know--”

“Then just let me do this,” Seungkwan pleads exasperatedly; sighing into the hand he raised to massage his temples. The older male of the two fixes the younger a hard stare. Hansol looks at Seungkwan with an equally hard, unmoving expression.

“For once,” Seungkwan tries again, pleading Hansol with determined eyes and a jut of his bottom lip, and Hansol sighs, giving up almost all too immediately. Jihoon stares at them with a twinge of jealousy--and there’s a whisper from somewhere in the back of his head saying: ‘this could have been me and Seungcheol,’ over and over again like a mantra.

“You never listen to me.” Hansol pouts, looking defeated. Chan laughs at this, and Jihoon can tell what the youngest was thinking about. _He’d do anything for you if you asked._ Jihoon knows this, and Chan knows this--everyone in SEVENTEEN knows.

“Hyung,” Seungkwan’s voice cuts Jihoon from his thoughts. Jihoon turns his head to the younger male, eyes tired. “Let us help you...just tell us what’s wrong.”

_Please don’t make me tell you._

“Tell us, hyung.” The youngest male echoes, his voice soft and tentative.

_Please don’t make me tell you._

“Hyung,” Seungkwan calls softly, grabbing his hand and squeezing it lightly as he searched for Jihoon’s eyes expectantly. Jihoon feels cornered, like an animal driven back into a corner. He hates how it reminds him of the nights that their ex-manager took him to older men--how he was sold for some cheap price and fucked by them.

Hansol stares wordlessly at Jihoon, debating whether or not to intervene. Jihoon has already told Hansol. Hansol _knows_. Hansol knowing the truth is already enough—he doesn’t want the others to know. He’s being selfish, but this secret is something he must bury where no one can find it. He’s ashamed of it—of what happened.

_“How much for this pretty little thing?” The older man asks, leering over Jihoon. The drone of the music in the bar that Jihoon and the manager were in was so loud, but Jihoon heard the other man loud and clear. Clenching his teeth, he grit out:_

_“I am not a pretty thing, you asshole--”_

_“Jihoon. Watch your goddamn mouth.” The sharp sound of the manager’s voice interrupts Jihoon. He immediately clamps his mouth shut, eyes looking down to the ground. He feels a familiar but unwanted hand start to massage his shoulders, and Jihoon tenses._

_“Don’t you see this kind young man wants to borrow your services for the night?” The manager’s voice is icily sweet, and her tone suggestive. Biting back a scowl, he nods very slowly._

_He’s doing this for them--for the other members; for Seungcheol--for their debut. It doesn’t matter if he’s suffering alone. ‘The pain right now is only a small part of what’s going to come after debut.’ Jihoon reminds himself wordlessly, teeth biting into his bottom lip._

_“He’s worth xxxxxxx.” The manager says loudly, giving Jihoon a look._

_That’s the amount to what you’re worth, Jihoon—is the words unsaid, but Jihoon can see it in the look that the manager gives him. ‘That’s what I’m worth,’ the words repeat in his head. His worth._

_The other male gives the manager a doubtful look, raising his eyebrow. The manager grins at him, showing her shark-like smile as she gripped Jihoon’s shoulder harder. Jihoon winces. “He’s a jewel, sir. One of a kind, I swear this.”_

_Her voice takes on an extra sweet tone on the last statement, and it makes Jihoon want to cringe. He’s no jewel—not after all that’s happened._

_“Have you fucked him before?” The older man asks, and Jihoon looks up at this, angry and shocked. There’s a curious glint in the older man’s eyes. The older man turns to him with a sly grin on his face, and just like that the older man knew. “From the way this little princess reacted, you have.”_

_He opens his mouth to deny it._

_"I have no idea…” He trails off, voice growing soft. A part of him wants to deny it, but it was the truth. It was the undeniable truth. ‘Reality,’ a voice in his head whispers._

_“Of course—I wouldn’t have done this if he weren’t a good enough fuck to be sold.”_

_The manager smiles up at the older man, as if she were promising something. The older man looks a_ _pprehensive, as if deep in thought. “It would be a night of wild fun,” The manager says, voice sultry._

_The older man gives a hum of thought._

* * *

 

_The hands grip his thighs, spreading his legs further open. The cold air of the night sends chills and goose bumps on Jihoon’s skin. Jihoon wants to stop—the hands caressing his thighs and his waist, and the lewd noises that came out of his mouth—he hates it._

_“Look at you,” the other man coos, running his fingers across Jihoon’s stomach, watching the other writhe and mewl on the bed. Jihoon can see the other man’s grin through the faint light. “You’re such a sensitive little slut, aren’t you princess?”_

_The nickname makes Jihoon want to scream._

_“N-not a slut—“_

_“Your body says otherwise, princess. Your body tells me exactly what you want,” The hands are no longer caressing his stomach, but teasing his nipples. The older man laughs darkly, twisting his hands flicking Jihoon’s nipples back and forth. Jihoon raises his hands to grip the other’s wrists, trying to pry them from his body._

_“I don’t want this—please stop,” He pleads. “Stop—stop!”_

_He doesn’t feel any pleasure from any of it—he just wants to stop it, stop this from happening._

_‘This isn’t real, this isn’t happening,’ Jihoon thinks to himself. But the pain he feels between his thighs and from his ass is real—the blood that trickles down his legs and the tears that prickle his eyes. They are enough to convince him it’s real, and he isn’t having a nightmare._

_“You can’t deny it—you love it. You want this—you deserve this.” The manager whispers hoarsely against his ear, as if telling him a secret. “Your body tells me that you want this, with the way your body arches to my hands. Your body wants me.”_

_The older man doesn’t stop, pressing his cock into Jihoon even as he bleeds. Jihoon doesn’t remember the sounds he made and neither does he remember the sounds that the older man made. He remembers the sensation—the burn of flesh pressing into him. It wasn’t enough for the older man’s libido, no._

_“Get on your knees and hands.”_

_The older man smiles as he makes Jihoon situate himself on all fours—pressing his cock into Jihoon’s lips. Jihoon doesn’t open his mouth. He sneers at the older man, spitting on the cock in front of him._

_“Wrong move, princess.”_

_The older man grabs his jaw harshly, pulling it downward and shoving his cock inside Jihoon’s mouth. He hisses when Jihoon’s teeth graze on the underside of his cock. His other hand finds Jihoon’s hair, and he grabs a fistful of it, abruptly pulling him towards his crotch, making Jihoon choke. Jihoon breathes harshly, sobbing as the older man moaned above him, thrusting into Jihoon’s mouth._

_‘I can’t breathe; I can’t breathe—fuck,’_

“I’m sorry,” Jihoon manages to say, feeling choked up and cornered. Jihoon turns to look at Hansol who only stares at him. ‘They need to know the truth,’ Hansol mouths at him. Jihoon hates it, he hates how alone he feels, he hates how no one understands—he doesn’t need their pity or empathy. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry—“

His voice is cracking and there is a stuttering in his words. He’ll tell them, just not now.  Not now, not now, _not now_ \--he doesn’t want to tell them now. He’ll cry too much if he tells them now. He needs time; he needs _time and space_ to get better—

“I c-can’t tell you--not now, not now, not now…”

He’s hyperventilating, breathing too hard in and out. The sounds are harsh, racking his body as he struggles to find more air—‘there isn’t enough air,’ he thinks, panicked.  His heart is beating too fast, skipping too many beats and missing the timing to get the pattern right.

‘I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe; I can’t breathe—‘ 

_There are times when spring is not joyful. Times when spring is spent alone—without significant others; this is when spring, no matter how much its beauty is of Demeter’s creation, is less beautiful. Colors are faded, things and events less exciting. It is when Hades whisked away Persephone to the underworld. Not everything is constantly beautiful—we can never have too much of one thing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahaha.ah. well...........did you like it? expect more scenes of what happened to jihoon :0 in the chapters to come :) (i never said the next one tho)
> 
> :-----)


	8. acceptance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heeeeeey so it's been a long time since i've updated. today's a bit of a special celebration for my hometown so i thought i'd post something. although it's kinda.............a mesh. i tried my best since the first draft that i made felt really weird for me and everything was just felt wrong and out of character;;;
> 
> anYWAYS! THIS CHAPTER TAKES PLACE....AFTER THE LAST CHAPTER. ISH. THE BEGINNING (italicized) IS MORE OF A DREAM FOR JIHOON. please enjoy!!!

**Purple Hyacinths**

**_Some of the sessions_ **

_“You’re enjoying this way too much, babe.” The man whispers in Jihoon’s ear. Jihoon reels away in disgust, eyes puffy and red after sobbing and pleading to let him go and to just stop._

_He still isn’t used to this. He thinks he’ll never get used to it. It’s not that he should try to get used to this—but to feel so utterly degraded and abused after every single session, Jihoon just wants the pain to stop. He wants to stop feeling so much of it—when he knows that the sex has nothing to do with feelings and everything to do with primal things like lust._

_"You’re so pretty like this—legs spread out wide for my cock,” The man rasps in Jihoon’s ear, before trailing down to Jihoon’s neck, kissing the skin there and biting and sucking harshly._

_Jihoon whimpers, but he doesn’t dare move. It’s not like he can move—the binds on his hands and legs grasp him tighter than the hands on his hips. ‘It’s going to bruise for weeks,’ He thinks to himself._

_“I s-said, stop—please.” Jihoon sobs, writhing and tugging on the ropes around his wrists, trying to get them off. The man only chuckles, the grin on his face illuminated by the soft yellow light on the bedside table. “Please…let me go,”_

_The man responds by laughing darkly. He then smirks at Jihoon, his hands crawling up to Jihoon’s mouth to cover it. Jihoon sobs louder, and tears fell from his eyes. The man squeezes Jihoon’s jaw, muffling his cries as the man glares at him to shut up._

_“You better keep your pretty mouth shut, you slut.”_

* * *

  _When Jihoon pretends to sleep, the other man leaves, closing the door softly that you’d think that he actually cared. Jihoon knows otherwise. He opens his eyes, and finds himself in the cold and dark room of the hotel._

_“It’s cold,” He says to no one in particular. He says things to himself a lot nowadays, and stares at himself in the mirror, trying to figure out what part of him made him this way. So fucking weak and cowardly—giving up so easily._

_He winces as he sits up the bed, his backside still sore. He stands up, squinting as he bends over to get his clothes in the dim lighting. He puts them on, not forgetting to wear his jacket and mouth mask. The new bruises on his hips and arms throb sore, and Jihoon winces._

_‘I need to get going. The manager is probably waiting for me already,’ Jihoon thinks to himself. He ties his shoelaces, and then hurriedly grabs his bag from the desk table. Glancing at the long mirror on the wall before the door, he makes sure that he won’t be recognized._

_He opens the door and walks out._

_The manager is already waiting for him by the door, as he suspected. She smiles at him and pats his head._

_“You’re such a darling, Jihoon-yah. I’m so proud!” She coos at him. Jihoon reels away quickly, turning away from her. He stares down at the carpeted floor of the hallway._

_“You’re only proud of me being able to earn you extra cash. Don’t act so close with me when you’re less than a friend.” Jihoon says coldly. He barely recognizes himself anymore._

_“Oh? Then what are we, Jihoon-yah?” She smirks at him, her long fingers grasping his shoulders and massaging them lightly. Her nails push against his skin. They hurt._

_“We’re nothing.” Jihoon replies easily. He doesn’t care anymore._

_“Have you forgotten, Jihoon-yah? I know you more intimately than anyone else.” The manager says; a smug tone in her voice. She squeezes Jihoon’s shoulders harder when Jihoon tries to shrug them off. “I’ve touched you in places that no one else has. I’m the first one you let in.”_

_Jihoon doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have the heart to deny it—he knows that she’s right. He continues staring down at the floor without saying a word. Silence passes and he hears soft footsteps. The manager’s breath is something he’d gotten used to, and he can now recognize it, the way it fans over the tips of his ears._

_“Aren’t I right, Jihoon-yah?”_

* * *

_This time, Jihoon is sitting in some abandoned subway. The manager is sitting a few meters away, several bottles littering about her feet. A bottle of soju in her left hand; and a phone in the other one. They don’t speak. It’s one of those lucky nights when Jihoon doesn’t have to do anything but just come along._

_It’s a silent night—and Jihoon’s honestly grateful. He spares a small glance in the manager’s direction, and finds her in a somewhat dazed state; eyes fixed on the phone in her hand with some emotion Jihoon didn’t care enough to decipher._

_“Carl’s coming,” She breathes out, small puffs of air crystalizing because of the cold._

_Jihoon turns his head to look at her._

_“…Who is he?” He asks; his voice a little unstable. The exhaustion is starting to catch up on him. Staying up so late having such a busy schedule—it was just draining._

_“He’s…someone, I can say.”_

_The door to the train bursts open, and Jihoon whips his head to turn and look. A man no older than the manager enters; dressed in shabby and worn clothes. He looked like a foreigner. With a cigarette in his mouth, he held up his lighter’s flame until the tip burnt. The smell of cigarettes made Jihoon dizzy._

_“Eunbi-yah,” The man murmurs as he looks at her with an odd look. His eyes quickly sweep to Jihoon, “Who’s this?”_

_The way the older man—Carl, says her name makes Jihoon flinch. He hates hearing his manager’s name._

_“He’s nobody important,” The manager replies, smiling sweetly at the other man. She looked at Carl with strange look that Jihoon couldn’t really place. The way they both looked at each other made Jihoon uncomfortable, like he was seeing something that wasn’t supposed to be there._

_“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” Carl says quietly, his voice almost affectionate._

_“It has. How have you been?”_

_“It’s just the same. Just doing the same things I used to do 4 years ago.”_

_Their conversation continues on, and Jihoon slowly pays less attention to it; their voices sounding like this dull buzz in the back of his head. He’s been getting less sleep nowadays, and it’s hard to keep up. Exhaustion is licking at his heels, and Jihoon is just constantly running from it._

_Jihoon thinks that the other members have noticed—but not to the extent that Jihoon doesn’t want them to. He sees the glances the other members give him when his movements are a bit sloppy or when he almost falls asleep while eating a snack. He tells himself that it’s better that none of them know what exactly has been happening for a few months already._

_“He’s that kid you talked about—isn’t it?” Carl laughs; the smoke coming out of his mouth in puffs of laughter. “Isn’t it…Lee Jihoon—the useless kid you talked about? Isn’t he that one kid who’s only good for fucking?”_

_This gets Jihoon’s attention._

_“He sure is that kid, alright!” The manager laughs darkly. It rings in Jihoon’s ears. Carl walks towards the manager, and plops down the seat next to her. He takes a long drag of his cigarette, and breathes it all out in one go._

_“You didn’t find any other way to play with him?” The older man asks, his voice taking on an amused tone. He glances at Jihoon with a sly face, and Jihoon doesn’t find it in himself to look up. He’s tired. He just wants to go home._

_There’s a beat of silence before the older woman says anything. Jihoon expects some sort of reply from the manager—some sort of degrading reply that Jihoon is already used to, not from only the manager, but also from all the men he’s already been fucked by. Jihoon’s long lost count of how many of them there were, and he doesn’t want to think about it._

_“Nah—it’s too risky. For someone of his status—it could not only risk him but also me.” The manager says. Jihoon blinks once—surprised at the older woman’s reply. He didn’t expect her to be even a bit considerate._

_“You wouldn’t say that seriously.” Carl laughs, sounding a bit surprised but overall bemused. Puffs of smoke come out of his mouth with each laugh, and he coughs a little, his free hand coming up to strike his chest._

_The manager pauses in her movements, and then turns her head to look at Carl._

_“You’re not the type to go easy—I know that. You like to go head-to-head with everything, you know?” Carl continues, lifting his cigarette to take a drag from it._

_The manager gives a hollow laugh, “Since when did you even know me that well?” She asks, clicking her tongue._

_“Since 4 years ago.” Carl replies easily, taking a long drag from his cigarette. The manager laughs, and the sound bounces off the walls. ‘It’s entirely different,’ Jihoon thinks, ‘The way that she’s laughing right now is entirely different from what I’m used to.’_

_“4 years ago you left me.” The older woman bites out. The tone of her voice is dangerous, and the way she stops in her movements is intimidating. It’s like the unnerving feeling you’d get when you knew something bad was about to happen. Jihoon, not wanting to get in the crossfire, avoids making any sound or move of any sort._

_“And yet I came back. Isn’t that enough?” Carl retorts, flicking his eyes up for a moment to look at the older woman. He butts his cigarette on the floor; flitting his eyes back to it. “You’ve become soft on this boy, Eunbi-yah.”_

_“You don’t have any right to come back into my life like you hadn’t fucked it over 4 years ago when you upped and left. You don’t have any right to tell me how to live my life and deal with my things like you did 4 years ago.” The manager says, her voice rising. She raises her hand and points toward the door, a silent gesture telling Carl to leave._

_“You’re asking me to leave?” Carl asks incredulously._

_“I’m not asking you, you asshole. I’m ordering you.”_

_“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Carl hisses, looking at the older woman with threatening eyes._

_“Nobody—and that’s what you are to me. I don’t even know why you wanted us to meet up again after all these fucking years.” The manager bites out. She’s breathing in and out harshly, as if she’s trying to calm herself down._

_“I thought we could pick up back to where we left off,” Carl says carefully, playing with his lighter by flicking it on and off again, “I want us to go be together again—just you and me, against the world.”_

_The manager laughs maniacally._

_“You and me,” She says, laughing, her voice a throaty sound, “Like Bonnie and Clyde again? Did you really fucking think—that’d I jump into your delusional little sunset? You think I’m the same person I was 4 years ago?”_

_“I know I fucked you over those 4 years ago,” Carl starts._

_“That doesn’t exactly help you right now.” The manager interrupts quickly, her voice cold. And before Carl could say anything else, she says:_

_“I don’t want you anymore, Carl. You were cruel to me—abusive. It took me a fucking long time to realize that I wasn’t treated the way I deserved to be treated,” She pauses a bit, glancing outside the dusty windows of the train, then she adds, “You’re not what I deserve—no, I deserve fucking better.”_

_“You love me—you still do. Just come back to me.”_

_Carl wraps his arms around the manager’s waist, and starts swaying them to some imaginary beat of music. He hums a nonsensical tune, his voice harsh and ragged._

_“I’ve changed, I swear…”_

_Jihoon’s mind swirls. Echoes and voices that did not belong to him rang in his ears like constant reminders of the things and events that had happened. And he withstood it all—because even if he ran now to be a coward, it would not change anything._

**Early Spring, Year XXXX**

When Jihoon comes to, he hears voices; voices that he recognizes. He does not open his eyes. He keeps them shut. The sounds are muffled somewhat—like he was underwater, and Jihoon finds himself wondering if it’s just him waking up after fainting or he’s really underwater. He settles on not dwelling on it too much and just focusing on the conversation.

“What happened, Hansol?”

‘Seungcheol…?’ Jihoon faintly thinks.

“I don’t know what happened, hyung…” Hansol starts shakily, sounding afraid, and Jihoon suddenly feels worse than he did earlier. He’s burdened Hansol—he’s burdened him with too much. The last thing Jihoon wants to be is a burden.

“We just wanted to talk to him and suddenly he’s mumbling something about not being able to tell us, and then he just caved in himself—like he was cornered!”

“What were you going to talk to him about?” Seungcheol asks. Hansol goes silent, and Jihoon silently thanks him for keeping his mouth shut.

“Have you seen him, hyung? He barely eats and he locks himself inside that studio of his!” Seungkwan exclaims, voice sounding worried. Jihoon feels even shittier than he did earlier.

“I have seen him, and yes—I wanted to ask him too. But you know how he gets with confrontations like that—he hates being cornered.” Seungcheol says softly, as if he didn’t want Jihoon to hear.

“Haven’t you noticed how much he flinches when we touch him?” Hansol asks. This earns a small groan from the elder.

“No…I haven’t exactly got free time to be affectionate with everyone.” Jihoon knows this better than anyone—with all the pressure from their CEO and managers to release a new mini-album with new songs to compose and record.

“Everyone’s stressed because of the deadlines the CEO-nim gave us. I know. But I thought you’d know—since you guys are close and…all.” Seungkwan says softly.

“I thought he’d tell me about this kind of thing too. But he didn’t…” Jihoon kind of regrets it—not telling Seungcheol, that is, but then again—he doesn’t want to bother the elder with his own issues when he’s already busy with planning for their comeback.

There’s a beat of silence before someone sighs, and that breaks the silence.

“Then you know now. I’ve noticed a lot, hyung. I see him staring blankly at the mirror on days that he thinks we’re not looking. He’s got bruises on his skin—almost everywhere. I don’t really know how he did it—convincing me and everyone else that he was fine, and he wasn’t littered in bruises.” Hansol finally says, sounding sad and worn-out. Seungkwan sighs.

“How did he even get those bruises?”

“Do I look like I know? No. I barely know anything.”

“You talk like you do.” Seungcheol says pointedly.

“We may talk like we know something—and maybe we do.” Seungkwan says, scoffing and giving the older a look, “But you don’t deserve to hear it from us, nor does Jihoon want us to tell you.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? Ask him?” Seungcheol asks incredulously. ‘It’s almost as if he’s afraid to ask,’ Jihoon thinks to himself.

Seungkwan sighs exasperatedly, “Yes—ask him. It’s the best way.”

“When he wakes up—I’ll ask him. I swear I will.”

There’s a hand softly carding through his hair, and Jihoon finds himself leaning into the touch. It’s comforting, and a part of him tells him it’s Seungcheol’s hand, because Seungcheol’s the only one who’s ever really carded his fingers through Jihoon’s hair. Then again, Jihoon deems it could only be wishful thinking or a delusion that his mind’s made up.

Either way, Jihoon feels safe and happy—content, even. He’ll deal with telling Seungcheol later.

‘Just for now,’ He thinks to himself, ‘Let me have this for now.’

Jihoon then falls back asleep.

* * *

 Jihoon wakes up to the smell of noodles cooking. He finds himself in the room that he shares with the other members, in his bed. It’s strangely quiet, unlike most days, when the dorm was full of noises—and it was almost impossible to come to some sort of peace.

He doesn’t want to get up, but the smell of food cooking was tempting and his stomach was growling. He wants to eat, and he needs to eat. He shuffles quietly to the kitchen, where the smell of noodles was coming from. The soft sunlight streaming from the windows tell him it’s early morning.

“Morning,”

The voice startles Jihoon a little. He turns his head to the source and finds Seungcheol, looking fresh and happily smiling at him as always—bathed in the warmth of the sunlight.  Jihoon’s breath catches in his throat.

‘He’s beautiful,’ Jihoon thinks, undoubting, ‘He’s beautiful and I love him.’

Words clutter in the back of his throat, and Jihoon finds it extra hard to get the words out. It’s a wonder how Jihoon manages to say, “Good morning.”

“Did you sleep well?” Seungcheol asks, turning back to the stove to stir the noodles.

“Yeah…I did.”

“Do you want breakfast?”

Jihoon makes a small noise of agreement. He slumps over the table as soon as he’s seated. The table is slightly cold to his touch, and he hisses softly as his skin makes contact with it. He’s still a bit sleepy.

“Where are the others?” He chooses to ask instead.

“Already went to practice. You know how hectic our schedules are.” Seungcheol replies easily, humming a tune to a song that Jihoon barely remembers.

Jihoon looks up, raises an eyebrow and asks, “Why aren’t you with them?”

“I’m taking care of you.”

Simply put, obvious and straightforward. Seungcheol never fails to make Jihoon’s heart skip a few beats, making it lose its rhythm, even in the bad times. The heat rushes to his cheeks, embarrassed, Jihoon briefly looks away to avoid Seungcheol looking at him and seeing him.

“Oh.”

“Let’s eat.” Seungcheol suddenly says, turning the stove off. He grabs a two bowls—one for himself and the other for Jihoon. He fills them up with the noodles and places it on the table. Jihoon sits up, properly this time, and smiles at Seungcheol a little.

“Cheol,” Jihoon calls out softly, looking at the older in the eye, “Thank you.” He says sincerely, smiling at the other sleepily.

He rarely says anything like this, Jihoon knows. But this time, he feels as though Seungcheol should know that he _is_ thankful for him staying behind and taking care of him. Seungcheol—always caring and taking an extra mile for anyone—Jihoon is just so _gone_ for him.

Seungcheol smiles at him, bright—almost blinding, and says, “No need to thank me, Hoonie.”

They eat in silence, with only the sound of the chirping of the birds and the occasional obnoxious honking of cars passing by. It’s comfortable, to be like this with Seungcheol—to be alone with him during the morning and not the night. It’s something rare, since mornings are usually spent with everyone else buzzing about, trying to get ready for the day.

The noodles lived up to its smell—tasting as good as it smelled. Jihoon smiles—it’s his favorite dish; Seungcheol must have remembered. It makes him happy, that Seungcheol remembers that little fact about him that he told him years ago.

“It tastes good.” Jihoon compliments, stirring his dish with his chopstick before taking a spoonful and eating.

“It _was_ made by me.” Seungcheol says smugly, smirking at Jihoon from across the table. Jihoon raises an eyebrow.

“Where is Mingyu? I think he made this, not you.”

The conversation flows smoothly after that; both of them taking advantage of this small pocket of time that he had to themselves. Just taking each moment carefully, savoring it and carefully taking it to memory. Jihoon knows he doesn’t want to forget this little moment—just him and Seungcheol, having breakfast together.

It doesn’t last forever though. Happy moments never do.

“Jihoon-yah,” Seungcheol calls out.

‘There it is,’ Jihoon thinks, ‘the catch.’

He doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s too early. But the longer he waits—the more it’ll get worse. The world is round, not flat—running away from your problems will only mean running closer to it; if it’s unsettled in the past, it will come back later on in the future to slap you in the face—at least, that’s what they always say. Jihoon knows these are true.

He’s not gonna do something stupid like running away. Not anymore, at least. He’s had his fair share of that a long, long time ago.

So he’s gonna face it. He can’t hide it—not from Seungcheol. Even if that means he’ll get hated by him.

“Yeah?”

“I think it’s time we talked.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahaha dont worry! i'll try my best to write the next chapter soon! it'll probably be longer than this one, though... i'll be busy with school since i took a 2 week absence just to come back to my hometown but who cares i love my hometown and ive been kinda....depressed the past few days. so coming back was...just nice. it was like...the feeling of familiarity--knowing what to do and how to act. i felt in control. so i wrote this.........kinda messy, aint it?


	9. trust me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay i have come back from the deaaaad (it hasnt been that long lmao) bu i hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I woked so hard on it and even went above my usual word count! :)) i was rlly happy with that. also...this is kinda messy but i really really really hope you guys enjoy this!
> 
> Thank you for all the comments and the kudos. It really means a lot!

**Daffodils**

Early Spring, Year XXXX

Jihoon tells him, everything, and by everything he means everything _except the part when he realized he was in love with Seungcheol and the part when he got jealous._ He just tells—from the very start to the very finish, from when Jihoon was asked to meet with their ex-manager to Jihoon running away from the manager and that broken-down house. He knows he’s baring himself open—and that’s just fucking _terrifying._ Seungcheol could have multiple possible reactions to it, and Jihoon tries not to think about it too much.

“…and now we’re here.” By the time Jihoon finishes, it’s almost time for lunch. The sun settles high in the sky, and there’s no longer the gentle sunlight streaming from the windows.

Jihoon looks at him—really looking at Seungcheol; waiting to see the elder’s reaction. He expects to be yelled at, to be scolded, scorned and hated. The least of his expectations is to be understood and comforted.

Seungcheol takes a deep breath in, and Jihoon holds his breath for what’s to come.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I…was scared.” Jihoon confesses with a short breath, “I was scared of your reaction—and the other member’s reactions.”

Seungcheol sighs, and pulls Jihoon towards him. Jihoon wants to shy away from the elder, feeling undeserving of the affection given. The silence of the dorm is unnerving. To Jihoon, it felt like the whole world just coincidentally stopped for a moment and heard him tell everything. But he knew that it didn’t really happen—Jihoon isn’t that self-centered. But he still feels like he’s vulnerable.

“You should never be scared, you know?” Seungcheol says softly. _You shouldn’t be scared of me,_ goes unsaid, but Jihoon catches it in the way Seungcheol looks at him.

Jihoon looks at him and nods softly, moving his hand to take Seungcheol’s much bigger hand. He squeezes it lightly. “Thank you.”

“…Thank you,” Seungcheol says instead, squeezing Jihoon’s hand back, “For telling me what happened.” Jihoon can tell Seungcheol is grateful, by the way the elder squeezes his hand like he was consoling him—holding his hand for all the times he couldn’t, and wasn’t there for him.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Seungcheol starts again, his tone guilty, “Don’t say anything—just…let me say this.” Seungcheol takes both of Jihoon’s hands, and it feels like such an intimate gesture that Jihoon feels his face flush with heat.

‘You didn’t know,’ Jihoon wants to tell him; remind him that none of what happened was his fault. Seungcheol wasn’t responsible for everything that happened to Jihoon. It just happened, because Jihoon was a coward—too much of a coward to refuse the manager and just come out.

Seungcheol’s squeezing both of his hands, silently massaging them. They don’t say anything at all—just sharing this small, intimate moment. And for a moment, Jihoon understands what Seungcheol means by ‘ _no words needed between this hyung and dongsaeng’_.

They don’t need words to express each other anymore. Just mutual silence—Jihoon understands now. Jihoon knows what Seungcheol wants to say; what he’s expressing, but he doesn’t have to say it out loud for Jihoon to know. Seungcheol understands, too. Jihoon doesn’t have to waste time saying it.

But Seungcheol doesn’t know Jihoon loves him, loves him with all his heart. And like some hormonal teenage girl expressing her feelings—Jihoon loves Seungcheol with every fiber of muscle he has, down to his marrows. Jihoon holds a part of Seungcheol; integrating him in everything he does—his music, his lyrics. Jihoon _loves_ him.

Jihoon supposes he should tell Seungcheol sometime. He deserves to know someone loves him, in the way that was beyond anything between friends—not that no one had ever—but Jihoon wants to tell him this, with his own voice and words; in his own way.

“Hyung,”

Seungcheol looks up, eyes glassy like he was on the verge of crying for him, and Jihoon’s heart softens. He could tell Seungcheol right now—tell him what he really felt.

“We should go now.” He says instead. Jihoon smiles at Seungcheol, and it felt more natural than it had ever felt in a long time.

* * *

The beat of the music booms throughout the dance studio. Jihoon feels every vibration in his bones, his heart pumping wildly as it tries to synchronize itself with the song. It’s exhilarating to practice like this, no matter how much his tired body protests against it.

“Jun—your timing is off!” Soonyoung yells over the music, and that breaks Jihoon’s concentration. He looks around and finds the rest of the group scattered rather awkwardly across the room. He looks at the wall mirror.

_God_ , they are a mess.

“Wonwoo-yah, you’re doing it a little awkward over there.” Soonyoung’s voice cuts through the dance studio, and almost immediately everyone stops moving and directs their attention to him.

The music abruptly stops, and then there is silence.

“You’re supposed to do it like this—” Soonyoung then demonstrates the move—moving his body sharply to a beat that they’d all been listening to for the past 4 hours. Wonwoo watches with rapt attention—his tired eyes watching Soonyoung with a determined glint.

“I think I’ve got it,” Wonwoo says; then proceeds to poorly imitate Soonyoung’s earlier movements. The other members watch him, sighing quietly as they note the still present awkwardness in his movements. “Did I do it right?”

“No—you were completely awkward.” Soonyoung says bluntly, looking frustrated. Jihoon thinks he’s rightfully frustrated. They’ve been at working on the choreography for this song for 2 days now, and they still haven’t gotten it completely right. It’s been raking on Soonyoung’s nerves and everyone else’s—he can tell.

“Let’s just gave a break,” Seungcheol suggests, his tone lightening up some of the atmosphere. “Okay?”

Everyone makes some sort of noise of agreement—some yelling out a ‘yes!’ or simply humming. Jihoon simply pumps his fist out in silent victory of having a break. A break meant having rest. Rest sounded like paradise. He hasn’t rested properly in quite some time.

“Hyung,” A familiar voice calls. Jihoon turns his head to look at the source.

“Oh...” He murmurs, eyes meeting three other sets—Hansol, Seungkwan and Chan, all with guilt laced in them. He knows they’re sorry, and they want to apologize. Jihoon doesn’t want to forgive them so easily, even if what they did was something that was something miniscule, but it hurt him. He thinks he deserves to at least treat them coldly after what happened. It takes him a lot of willpower not to forgive them all at once.

“What do you want?” He asks instead, his tone cold.

“We wanted to say sorry…for what happened.” Hansol says first, taking a small step forward, looking tentative.

“You mean,” Jihoon starts, flicking his eyes up to their faces and meeting their eyes, “For me fainting last night?”

“Yeah.”

There’s another beat of silence before anyone says anything. The only noise comes from the voices of the other members chattering about, oblivious to Jihoon and the maknae line, and the squeak of shoes against the floor as Jun and Minghao go over the choreography.

“I’m really sorry, hyung. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I knew Seungkwan-hyung and Hansol-hyung knew something, but—” Chan says sincerely, walking forward with his hand reaching out before he stops in his tracks and looks down to the floor.  “—I just wanted to hear it from you.”

Jihoon breathes in slowly. He knows that he is the type of person who wouldn’t forgive anyone so easily, but suddenly—that didn’t really matter anymore. _Jihoon was going to forgive them, because he knows they mean it. They’re family, after all._ He closes his eyes.

“It’s okay, Dino-yah.” He says softly. It’s almost too quiet for anyone within 10 meters around him, but Jihoon knows that the maknae line can hear him just fine.

“But it’s not, hyung—”

“I think I get to decide for myself if it’s okay or not, okay?”

“…Fine.” The younger says dejectedly.

“So don’t apologize. The truth was bound to come out soon. I can’t hide secrets forever.” Jihoon says, eyes flicking to Seungcheol as he thought about his feelings for the older man. Those were bound to come out too, somehow.

“What about us, hyung?” Seungkwan and Hansol ask, sounding hopeful. “We really are sorry. We shouldn’t have pushed you too much. We should have known when to stop and—”

“I forgive you too,” Jihoon says softly, eyes flicking back to the maknae line in front of him. He eyes Hansol and Seungkwan, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “Just don’t do it again, please.”

“We won’t.” They chorus, beaming at him.

Jihoon finds himself staring eye-to-eye with each of them, the sincerity in their eyes bleeding in their voices. Jihoon closes his eyes and gives out a sigh. It’s not like he could live without forgiving them for doing something that they didn’t mean.

He walks to the mirror, leaning on it and sinking down to the floor. The floor was cold and almost unforgivingly hard. Jihoon winces as some of the bruises behind his legs are hit. The weariness of their practice and lack of sleep was something Jihoon knew he couldn’t avoid any longer.

The noises around him meld into this buzz in the back of Jihoon’s head. He’s still afraid of falling asleep; the memory of Eunbi still blazing behind his eyelids. But he closes his eyes this time, just for a moment. _He’ll be fine._

 There’s a brief flashback of hands gripping his wrists and bloodshot eyes staring at him from a corner of the room.

_‘She’s gone,’_ Jihoon chides himself, shifting his position against the mirror, _‘—and I’ll be okay.’_    

* * *

When Jihoon wakes, he finds everyone preparing to leave. There’s a quiet murmur that comes from the AC, and the occasional chattering of the other members as they quickly gather their things. Jihoon looks outside through the window—it’s raining.

“Why didn’t you guys wake me up, hyung?” He asks Soonyoung, who’s standing nearby, hand clutching a ready-to-go bag. He looks like he would fall over at any moment, his eyes—with dark circles around them—blinking blearily at Jihoon.

“We didn’t want to overwork you.” Soonyoung says simply, closing his eyes and leaning against the wall. Jihoon thinks he’s obviously half-asleep at this point, and doubts if it’s true, but Soonyoung never lies. Soonyoung was too kind for that—and also too blunt to give anyway for any sugarcoating. “Plus, Seungcheol said not to disturb you.”

“He did?”

“Yeah—what’d you expect?” Soonyoung asks; his tone incredulous. Jihoon doesn’t know what exactly he expected. Seungcheol was acting a little more unpredictable today, and he doesn’t know why. “You know him—more than I do. You _know_ he cares about you.”

“I know he does but—”

“Don’t doubt him. Not right now, not ever. He isn’t that type of person—and _you know_ that. He hands out promises like they’re candy, and he’s never been the type to break even one. He is _not_ that type of guy, okay?”

“...Yeah, I know.” Jihoon finally says, biting the urge to say, _more than anyone—I know._

Soonyoung then opens his eyes to look at Jihoon with a look of curiosity. He grins widely, looking somewhat knowing, as if he knew something that Jihoon didn’t know about. “If you know that what you know is true, then act on what you know.”

“That didn’t really make sense.” Jihoon says blankly, eyeing Soonyoung with a questioning look. Soonyoung chuckles quietly, his voice raspy from yelling choreography cues and shouting motivational stuff.

“Doesn’t really have to, you know? Most of the time, the good stuff that happens, doesn’t really make sense. Like falling in love or laughing because something reminded you of a funny joke.” Soonyoung muses suddenly, his tone growing serious and somewhat wistful. Jihoon looks at him at this, surprised at the sudden change of atmosphere.

“I thought you didn’t like philosophy.” Jihoon says, his confusion bleeding just a little into his voice. Soonyoung blinks; looking at him at this, he smiles. There’s a twinkle in Soonyoung’s eyes that remind Jihoon of mischievousness.

“I don’t.” Soonyoung says playfully, his grin still plastered on his face. “I just find it cool.”

“Then why’d you—”

“Are you serious, right now?” Soonyoung sighs, his hands coming up to cup his face in exasperation. He breathes in and breathes out, “With all the subtle hints I’ve been dropping?” He asks himself, his tone incredulous. Jihoon raises a brow.

“I’m serious. I don’t get what you mean.” Jihoon says bluntly, his tone serious. He doesn’t really get what Soonyoung is trying to tell. It’s a little too vague, but then he supposes that he wouldn’t really know, since they don’t talk _that_ much. It leaves him feeling a little guilty.

Soonyoung stares at him with a look of disbelief.

“Are you sure you write 95 percent of SEVENTEEN’s songs?” He asks Jihoon, a hint of doubt in his voice. “Because that 95 percent—it’s mostly about love.”

“I write most of our songs—you know that. Why are you even questioning it?”

Soonyoung sighs overdramatically, rolling his eyes for effect. He sounds irritated, almost tired. “I’m talking about _love,_ Jihoon-yah.”

“…love?” Jihoon asks, unsure of what that really means. What about love? Then Jihoon thinks back to all the smiling and sudden philosophical sayings that Soonyoung suddenly started saying and that you’d only hear from movies and novels, and then it just clicks. “Wait—are you saying _you’re_ in love?”

“Was it not obvious?” The elder asks. Soonyoung is grinning, almost maniacal. But it doesn’t reach his eyes. It was an odd sight, seeing Soonyoung smiling so happily; the happiness expressed from his toes to his mouth and then it just suddenly stops there, not reaching his eyes. To Jihoon, Soonyoung looked much better when he smiled and crinkled his eyes.

“Not to me.” Jihoon answers, shrugging his shoulders.

“I thought I was so obvious that even you’d know.” Soonyoung laughs, shaking his shoulders, “Guess I wasn’t that terribly obvious about it.” The elder murmurs the last part, staring down at the ground as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Jihoon blinks owlishly at him.

“Did you not want for us to know about it? You seem down about being so obvious.” Jihoon murmurs, his tone hushed. He shuffles closer to the elder, only a few centimeters apart.

“No—it’s _not_ that. I mean—secrets always come out at some point, you know? You can’t keep them to yourself forever.” Soonyoung says, sounding sad as Jihoon listens with rapt attention. He sighs, and curls into himself. “I’m just—scared you know?”

“Why would you be so scared to be in love?” Jihoon asks, genuinely curious.

  _Why are you scared to be in love with Seungcheol?’_ A voice in the back of his head asks him tauntingly. Jihoon can’t find the answer to that.

There’s a beat of silence on loop. It takes a moment for Soonyoung to look up from the ground, looking scared. He breathes in shakily, skirting his eyes around and never focusing on Jihoon. He breathes out, “Because I’m in love with you.”

Jihoon blinks at him, then blinks again, his eyes widening as he took in what those words really meant. His face flushes with heat.

“Oh,” is all that comes out of his mouth.

“Wait no—that’s _not what I meant._ I meant that—I _was_ in love with you.” Soonyoung quickly says again, looking guilty. “And I realized a lot of things—looking at you and Seungcheol—I realized that I was never really going to make you happy in a way that Seungcheol can. And before you say anything else, yeah—I know about your feelings for him.”

Soonyoung looks at him pleadingly, as if asking him not to say anything yet. Jihoon doesn’t say anything, instead nodding, as if asking the elder to continue.

“I realized that—what I felt, wasn’t really love, you know?” Soonyoung continues, eyes blinking back to the floor, “It was more of admiration or infatuation. I admired the way you work so hard for anything and everything, and I liked you enough to have my heart beating so fast and my stomach swelling with butterflies whenever you talked to me. But what I felt wasn’t really love—because I didn’t really know you. I still don’t—not really. I don’t know the way you like your coffee, or your favorite songs, or what to do when you have a bad day. I guess I could learn, but you never looked in my way. Not in the way I wanted you to.”

Soonyoung breathes in, and then pauses for effect, “I always looked at you, but you never looked at me.”

Jihoon doesn’t really know how to react to a confession. A part of him doesn’t know what exactly to say to the elder. A part of him is confused, flashing back to all the times he’d seen Soonyoung. He hadn’t really noticed, but now that he thought about it—all the lingering stares, the smiling and joking, it finally made sense. Why Soonyoung could never really look at him in the eye, and why he was almost always ready to break out into jokes.

“You don’t have to say anything. Just don’t be sorry.” Soonyoung interjects, looking at him this time, hand inching to take Jihoon’s. “Everything happens for a reason, okay? I know that.”

“Okay.” Jihoon finally says, squeezing Soonyoung’s hand gently.

“Can we still be friends?” Soonyoung asks, looking and sounding tentative. Jihoon doesn’t think having Soonyoung as his friend now will change anything.

“Nothing will change between us, hyung. We can still be friends.”

“Thank you.” Soonyoung says gratefully, sounding like a heavy weight was lifted off his chest. He breathes in and breathes out, letting a small smile settle on his face.

“It stopped raining. Are we all good to go?” Seungcheol yells out, his voice booming throughout the room. Jihoon shifts his eyes to look at the elder.

There’s a chorus of ‘yes’ and ‘yeah’ from the other members, all sounding tired and ready to flop into bed. Jihoon doesn’t feel particularly tired—after all, he just woke up a few minutes ago. He stands up, and walks over to his bag on the other side of the room. Everything is already packed, and there’s nothing missing from his bag.

“Let’s go,” Soonyoung says from behind him, carrying his backpack. Jihoon nods wordlessly, grabbing his bag and quickly following the other members filing out of the room.

* * *

When they all walk back to the dorms, Jihoon quickly falls behind. He walks slowly, trying to breathe in and breathe out the night air without feeling like he was in one of their ex-manager’s little night outs again. Seungcheol doesn’t seem to notice this, too fixed with talking to the rest of the hip hop team in low voices.

“Are you alright?” A voice from behind him asks. Jihoon jumps a little, his hands coming up to a defensive pose. He looks behind him and finds Jun and Minghao, looking at him with concerned expressions. He blinks at them.

“I’m fine,” Jihoon answers, almost automatically, bringing his hands down. It’s like muscle memory now—to say that he’s fine whenever he’s asked. Jun and Minghao stare at him with raised brows; their expressions clearly saying that they were unconvinced.

“There’s no need to lie to us, Jihoon-hyung.” Minghao says, a hint of a smile curling on his lips. He walks faster, trying to match his pace with Jihoon’s.

“I wasn’t lying. I’m really fine—” Jihoon starts, trying to sound as normal as possible. He doesn’t want to drag them into his issues when they don’t have to care about it—why should they? Jihoon didn’t really talk to them, and neither was he someone really important to both of them.

“—says the person who _fainted_ about 24 hours ago,” Jun interjects sarcastically, emphasizing the word, ‘fainted’. Minghao nods, making a noise of agreement.

Jihoon goes quiet at this.

“We’re allowed to worry, hyung.” Minghao says softly, voice in a consoling tone. He’s walking side by side with Jihoon now. Jun walks not too far behind them, just within hearing. The sound of their footsteps on wet concrete and the night ambience is all Jihoon hears, other than his conversation with Jun and Minghao.

“I know.” Jihoon murmurs, almost resignedly. _‘I really do know. But you don’t have to.’_ He thinks to himself.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Jun asks, sounding all too eager. Jihoon briefly pauses in his tracks before continuing his earlier pace. Minghao swerves his head to look at the other and gives him a look of disbelief. Jihoon bites his lip. He’s not really ready to talk about it yet.

“No.” He answers; his voice almost too quiet that you wouldn’t be able to hear it.

“You don’t have to. We will wait for the time when you will tell us. You have to promise us, Jihoon-yah—you have to tell us, okay?” Jun says, quickening his pace and bounding on Jihoon’s side. The elder wraps an arm around him and pulls him in for a brief hug; squeezing his sides. “So we can try and help.”

“We’re family—you can tell us anything.” Minghao says, looking at them affectionately. He walks closer to them and lightly bumps Jihoon’s side. “That’s what Seungcheol-hyung always says—”

“We are family,” Jun says in a poor imitation of Seungcheol’s voice, “—we don’t hide anything from each other.” Minghao and Jihoon burst into peals of laughter at this, stopping in their tracks. The other members turn around and give them a look, but Jihoon just gives them a thumbs-up gesture. They shrug, and continue walking back to the dorm.

The night air seemed much, much fresher after laughing. Jun grins at them both—seemingly satisfied himself and his little skit. _It feels nice, to laugh like this with them._ Minghao then suddenly grins widely; a twinkle in this eye that Jihoon felt slightly weary about. The younger opens his mouth and—

“It’s not like we don’t already tell each other everything—we’ve all seen everything, including all your penis sizes.” Minghao laughs, a childish grin on his face. He has dark circles around his eyes, but the way he crinkles them when he smiles or laughs makes it seem like they weren’t really there.

“Oh my god, Minghao—why must you bring up penis sizes?” Jun spits out, sounding scandalized. He gives the younger a look full of exasperation. “—and out loud in a street!”

“And as if you aren’t dirty-minded!” Minghao shoots back, tone incredulous and smug. He raises and brow at Jun and says something in Chinese. Jun replies back in Chinese with just as much bite. They keep arguing back and forth in Chinese. It’s a little too fast for Jihoon to try and translate. He catches the word ‘penis’ in Chinese and narrows his eyes at them.                                                                                                                                                     

“You guys say penis? I say dick.” He says to them in Korean. “You guys are really innocent!”

“Shut up—you punk!” Minghao yells back, his cheeks slightly red from embarrassment. Jihoon and Jun laughs until their stomachs hurt, and their cheeks hurt from smiling.

“Y-you _say ‘you punk’—_ ” Jun begins, stuttering and biting his lower lip to keep himself from bursting out into peals of laughter. Jihoon giggles.

“Both of you—oh my god, _shut up!_ ”

Jun and Jihoon laugh rambunctiously, ignoring Minghao as they slink an arm around each other’s shoulders and start walking faster than Minghao. The younger boy sputters—making a noise of disbelief and anger as he glared at them half-heartedly.

“Wait up!”

“We’re gonna get left behind!” Jun exclaims suddenly, looking far ahead, the remnants of his earlier grin faded down to a small smile. Minghao looks at the same direction and snorts.

“We already are!” Minghao shoots back half-heartedly, no malice in his voice. The younger bounds up to them and slinks an arm around Jun’s shoulder. Jihoon smiles, feeling tired from laughing. It’s a good kind of tired.

“Whose fault is that? Jun asks sarcastically, eyeing Minghao with a look. Minghao rolls his eyes and grins at Jihoon.

“Definitely not mine,”

As they continue walking, Jihoon can slowly make out the dorm building in the distance. It’s not too far now—just a one more block. The water on the ground beneath them splashes around as the group of three walk towards their destination. _It’s nice, to be comfortable in sharing the silence with someone other than Seungcheol._

“Jun-hyung, Minghao-yah,” Jihoon calls out, his voice soft. Jun and Minghao turn their head to look at him, their gazes questioning.

“Hm?”

Jihoon breathes in, and breathes out. He smiles softly, “I just, wanted to thank you,” He murmurs, loud enough for them to hear. He blinks at the ground, and finally, gathers enough courage to look at them.  “For that—”

“—for making me laugh.” Jihoon continues after a shaky breath. He gives up on maintaining eye contact and brings his gaze down to the wet ground; his shoes slightly soaked from all the puddles.

“You don’t need to thank us.” Minghao says softly, bringing his hand to cup Jihoon’s face and gently moving it up. The younger boy smiles at Jihoon, bringing his hand down to squeeze Jihoon’s hand.

 “It’s okay, Jihoon-yah.” Jun says; his tone serious. Jihoon looks at him, and sees a look on the elder’s face that he could only describe as ‘seriousness’. “We’re family, after all—no jokes this time.”

* * *

When Jihoon enters the shared dorm room, he finds his roommates all fast asleep, the weight of the day’s hard work finally taking its toll.

The room is somewhat cluttered with various objects that belonged to both Jihoon and his roommates, and Jihoon is careful not to trip on any. He hurriedly changes his clothes and gets ready to go to sleep.

He falls softly to his bed, and immediately pulls the covers over his body and settles for a good position. His muscles scream with joy as they revel in the stillness, and the softness of his pillow and blanket. He sighs.

Sleepiness was going to come easy. But accepting sleep was different. Jihoon’s head was plagued with thoughts of what happened and what was to happen next—what should he do? Should he tell the rest of the members? The truth was bound to come out, and Jihoon had rather tell them himself than them finding out through someone else.

‘How will I tell them?’ He ponders to himself, staring blankly at the space above him.

“Jihoon-yah?” A familiar voice calls out.

“Yeah?” His voice is croaky; almost sounding like it wasn’t him. Jihoon breathes in slowly, trying to calm his breaths.

“I can hear you thinking. It’s really loud.”

_Shit._

“Oh. I’m sorry—” Jihoon starts, wanting to apologize for being an inconvenience.

“Go to sleep—it’s really late.”

“Okay.”

Jihoon takes a deep breath in and breathes out slowly. It’s going to be fine. He falls to sleep, and finds a peaceful rest for the first time in weeks.

_S_ _pring—as I have said before, brings birth and new life. New thoughts, words and epiphanies! Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse; this is why we favor spring—it is a new beginning. It is a dawn of a new year, and a new era. But it is only the start—the wrapping of a Christmas gift. It holds many possible things, great things that have never been before. Let us wait and see what the year holds for us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come holler at me in the comments!! :---)))


	10. i don't know how to

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so. Yes, it's been quite a long time. I've been busy with trying to get a hold of my life and my school started so...yeah. But, a friend told me--including your supportive comments--that I should continue writing this story. And so I shall, but be warned, I don't exactly know where this is really going anymore. But I will try my best to write it according to how I had originally planned it to end. 
> 
> I'm very, very, very thankful and grateful for all the people and readers who still support me (whoever you may be). I'm so happy, that you guys like the way that I write, it's really reassuring, and believe me, your comments do miracles. Thank you. So much. Thank you. You guys have no idea how much comments impact the writer's motivation to write more. I'm so happy and grateful for all your love and support for this story. Hopefully you guys will still continue to support and love this story until the very end. Love y'all.
> 
> Anyways, here's the next chapter. It's a lot shorter than what I wrote in previous chapters...I'm sorry. But I'll try and find the time to make longer, more interesting chapters for you guys.

**Gladiolus**

Mid-Spring, Year XXXX

Jihoon never manages to tell them. It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell the other members—no, he does want to tell them. They deserve to know after being so worried about him. It’s just that he’s never found the time to tell them. Seungcheol hasn’t said anything about it, and Jihoon is grateful for that. He’s still scared, scared of what’s to come next.

In just a few weeks, the repackaged album of their first official album will be released. Jihoon and everyone else have been running around, practicing and preparing for it. This one album is special—it isn’t for their gain, no, not really. It’s for the fans that have done so much, for supporting them all this time. Jihoon wants to give something back to the fans who had worked and supported them so well and gave them their first ever win. He feels as though he owes them at least that.

He stresses over a lot of things, and it’s hard to take the time to think about personal matters. He spends his days inside his studio, staring at his screen and willing the melodies to come to life. Jihoon squints at the computer screen for the umpteenth time today, the sound of the beat in his ears loud and clear. Something’s weird about the song, but he can’t figure it out yet.

“Jihoon-yah,”

He plays the odd part of the song again; staring at the computer screen like it was showing some sort of strange puzzle. The beat feels odd—maybe a little too upbeat and cheery. Jihoon taps his fingers on the desk to the beat and bobs his head. It was _definitely_ too upbeat for a song with lyrics like that. _But wouldn’t that make it more interesting?_

“Jihoon-yah,”

Jihoon cranks up the volume, trying to identify what exactly felt wrong about it. A hand taps him on the shoulder, and Jihoon closes his eyes to sigh. He stops the music, and turns around to see who it is. “—Seungcheol-hyung?”

The younger’s gaze is questioning, almost curious and a bit surprised. Jihoon knows Seungcheol doesn’t usually come to the recording studio on days like this. “Why are you here, hyung?”

The elder smiles at him like he knows something Jihoon doesn’t; his eyes holding an amused glint. “It’s my time to record, remember?” Seungcheol drawls, looking down at Jihoon from where he stood. The door behind him is slightly ajar, the elder’s hand holding it as if he was about to close it softly.

“Oh—I didn’t realize the time…” Jihoon mutters, glancing at the time on the computer screen and cursing in his breath as he realizes how late it already is. He’s been working on a song he was planning to release along with the repackaged album, hoping to let out everything he had been holding in for a long time. He sighs—he feels worn out.

“It’s alright, Jihoon-yah,” Seungcheol laughs, his voice softly reverberating around the studio. “No one is expecting you to be perfect all the time.” Jihoon looks up at the elder, meeting his eyes and giving a small smile. He’s grateful for his hyung’s kindness and soft words. More than anything, he is grateful for the people he’s surrounded by for the past 3 years.

“Thank you, hyung.”

 

* * *

 

 

“That’s a wrap, hyung.” Jihoon says tiredly, blinking his eyes and taking his headphones off. Seungcheol grins at him from the recording room, and Jihoon gives him the thumbs up sign with his hand. Seungcheol walks out of the recording room, humming a tune Jihoon knew all too well. It’s the song they’ve been working on for weeks. Jihoon could never get it right no matter how he tried.

“Something’s bothering you, isn’t there?” Seungcheol suddenly asks, and Jihoon lifts an eyebrow at him. The older man is looking at him with a knowing expression; his hands coming up to cross over the other, and Jihoon knows he can’t escape. He curses the fact that Seungcheol knew him all too well.

“How’d you know?” Jihoon asks in a casual voice, turning away and blinking. His fingers press against the desk, tapping away to the beat in his head. The light of the computer screen is almost blinding. The recording of Seungcheol’s rap is on the screen, on pause. Seungcheol clears his throat.

“I noticed. You seem to be so fixed with something, and you seem restless.”

“Oh.”

There’s a silence after that. Jihoon doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to lie to Seungcheol about anything anymore, so he’ll settle for not saying anything than hiding it with more lies. He has to be considerate about Seungcheol’s feelings too.

“You can tell hyung anything.” Seungcheol says softly, the faintest smile on his face. Jihoon looks at him at this, suddenly reminded of that little fact that always applied to him and Seungcheol. He doesn’t know where to start, even though he’s told Seungcheol most of the things.

“…Let’s get coffee first.”

“Alright,” Seungcheol nods, smiling softly. Jihoon nods and gets up from his chair, and starts to walk to the door. Seungcheol follows him quietly. The door clicks shut as Jihoon closes it, and the sound echoes through the empty hallway.

 

* * *

 

 

The walk to the 24-hour coffee shop didn’t take too long. Jihoon and Seungcheol walk side by side through the familiar dim-lighted streets. The usual late night ambience plays over and over like a broken record. The bark of dogs here and there; the whizzing of a car passing by, these are all things that Jihoon notice every single time he passes by.

‘The neighborhood is never really quiet at night,’ He thinks to himself, humming a small tune under his breath as they head to their destination.

The coffee shop wasn’t anything that special, but it was cute and looked comfy enough that it passed Jihoon’s set of standards. They head inside and order their drinks, and look for an empty spot to settle down.

“So…what’s bothering you?” Seungcheol asks, almost immediately after taking the first sip of his drink—mocha cappuccino. They are seated in the quiet corner of the shop, with a large window beside them, providing a view to the street outside. Jihoon blinks at the elder, the steam from the coffee rising just a few inches before his face.

“It’s just that…I’ve been working on this piece for some time, and it just doesn’t match up.” He answers quietly, pausing at some moments to consider his words. He takes his first sip of his drink; groaning as he feels the warm liquid run down his throat, the warmth slowly spreading. Seungcheol clears his throat.

“What do you mean?” The elder asks, shifting his seat forward as he leans in forward as if to listen more intently; taking every word like it was important. And it made Jihoon feel that he was important; feel like he really did matter to Seungcheol—like he was special. Jihoon takes another sip of his drink.

“The lyrics don’t match the music,” He says, shifting his eyes to look at the view outside the window. He then pauses, reconsidering his words, “— _No, not really._ It’s just that…it doesn’t really feel right. A part of me thinks it’s great, but the other part thinks differently—says that I should follow rules and stuff like that.” Jihoon frowns, realizing that he never really intended to say the second part.

Seungcheol nods, biting his lip and shifting his eyes as though in thought. “Have you tried changing the music to match your lyrics?” The elder asks him, reaching for his drink on the coffee table. The elder takes a sip.

“Of course I have. I would have thought of that immediately.” Jihoon says with a huff, feeling mildly offended that Seungcheol hadn’t considered that he wasn’t stupid and knew what he was doing.

“Then why are you so stressed over it? The problem’s solved, right?”

Jihoon sighs, for what seemed like the millionth time in the day. Seungcheol looks up from his drink to look at Jihoon, a concerned and questioning look on his face. Jihoon open his mouth, “No. Whenever I change it, it just sounds even weirder. It doesn’t really sound right to me.” Jihoon shifts his eyes to meet Seungcheol’s gaze, “Nothing really matches up nowadays.”

“I understand how you feel—been there before.” Seungcheol says, trying to comfort him. Jihoon loves how he always tries to help others even though he doesn’t really know what to say. It’s adorable, but still so unhelpful in certain circumstances like the one right now.

There’s a beat of silence here. Jihoon breaks his eyes away from Seungcheol’s to avoid doing something incredibly stupid, like leaning in and kissing him.

“Maybe things not matching up with each other is a good thing.”

“That’s like putting 2 plus 2 equals 5. It wouldn’t make sense—the problem has to have a correct solution.”

“Don’t be a logician now, Hoonie.”

“Don’t think of it that way—music isn’t always like that. Music is not black and white, but music is fluid, always and forever evolving. Dynamic! Music transcends time, and time passes, different generation come and go, each having their own taste and share in music. Music will _never_ be the same. Isn’t that what you told me a long time ago?”

“…what?”

“Think of it like yin and yang. They’re different, but they work together to create a balance.” Seungcheol says, trying to imitate a yin and yang symbol with his fingers and waving it in front of his face. Jihoon squints.

“I wish it were that _simple_.” Jihoon sighs, slumping down to the backrest of the comfy couch. Seungcheol laughs and sips a bit of his drink before slumping on the back of the couch. “You said that too, months ago.”

“I said that?” Jihoon asks, doubtful. His eyebrows furrow, and his bottom lip juts out unconsciously. He doesn’t really remember a time when he said that, not in front of the members, at least. He’s said it to himself when he’s alone and staring at his laptop or his reflection in the mirror, but in front of the others? He would never.

“Almost the exact same thing—and then you made that face! The one when you get inspired to write lyrics; where your eyes get so wide and you get these little pursed lips!” Seungcheol exclaims, his tone almost gushing. Jihoon raises an eyebrow. Seungcheol tuts his tongue and shakes his head, a small, teasing smile on his face. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember!”

Jihoon shakes his head. “I really don’t really remember saying that.”

Seungcheol’s jaw drops, a disbelieving expression on his face. Jihoon’s eyebrows furrow even more, the frown on his face growing. _What exactly was he missing here? When did he ever say that same phrase?_

“You don’t remember your own song?” Seungcheol asks; the same disbelieving expression on his face. The elder’s hand is suspended mid-air, as if time had stopped. _The cup in Seungcheol’s hand is bound to be searing on his skin now._ “Simple?”

Jihoon shakes his head.

“Simple?” Seungcheol asks again, this time, in English. Jihoon frowns. _When had he done that? He_ —wait. Then it dawns on him, Simple was the song he made during the time when things between him and their ex-manager started getting heated and even more dangerous. It was already shocking that he had been too careless with the lyrics, but it was more shocking that the management even allowed the song to be performed at one of their older concerts, Boys Wish. “Oh.”

“Yeah. _Oh_.” Seungcheol’s grinning now, looking at him with those teasing eyes and silly face and Jihoon can’t help but grin back, a laugh erupting from him. Seungcheol laughs too, and they both end up laughing and chucking at each other’s antics—Jihoon’s forgetfulness and Seungcheol’s hilarious face when he tries to make things funny.

“I remember now,” Jihoon says, clearing his throat. He’s still grinning, and it feels like it’s never going to stop. “I remember saying it.”

“You remember how you made it, right?” Seungcheol asks, looking expectant. Jihoon smiles at him like he’s remembering the exact same thing Seungcheol was probably thinking of.

_Of course he remembers. It’s far darker than the story that Seungcheol knows—the other half of it. What Seungcheol doesn’t know is the actual meaning of the lyrics he had written for Simple, and all the countless other alternate lyrics that he had written before he had decided exactly which ones he could use. In the end, he picked specific raw verses, ones that weren’t too suggestive and ultimately, just vague._

“Yeah, I remember.” Jihoon says instead, still smiling at Seungcheol. _Don’t think of that now._ He takes his drink and glances out the window, breathing out a sigh and then sipping his drink just a little bit. Seungcheol smiles at him, but Jihoon barely notices it at the corner of his eye.

“We should head back soon, yeah?” Seungcheol asks, and Jihoon immediately turns his head in Seungcheol’s direction. The elder is leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs as his arms support his upper body’s weight. Jihoon’s eyes meet Seungcheol’s for a small moment before he looks away like he’d been stung.

“Yeah, sure.”

 

* * *

 

 

The walk back home felt longer, as if time was slowing down, trying to make this particular moment in the word last longer. Seungcheol and Jihoon walk side-by-side, arms almost barely touching. In Seungcheol’s hand is his drink, and in Jihoon’s was his own. The neighborhood was barely making a sound now.

“When are you gonna tell them?” Seungcheol asks suddenly, breaking the silence that had treacherously lured Jihoon into a false sense of security. Jihoon tenses and he bites his lower lip. _Do I have to?_ His mind asks, his selfishness trying to take a hold of him. _I don’t want to tell them. I’m still a coward. I’m still so scared. But I can’t keep lying to them like this._

“…I don’t know.” Jihoon says truthfully, telling Seungcheol the actual truth for what seemed like the first time in a long time. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s scared and so confused, but he has responsibilities, other things to worry about like his job.

“You can’t keep lying to them.”

“I know that, Cheol.” Jihoon says exasperatedly, his voice rising. He stops in his tracks. Seungcheol stops with him, his head turned to Jihoon. Jihoon doesn’t look at him, and instead focuses on the ground beneath his feet. “I know,” Jihoon says again, his voice sounding less angry and more tired than ever.

“Then why didn’t you take the chance then? To tell them the truth?”

“Didn’t you ever think that I was too scared? I’m not as brave as you, Cheol.” Jihoon reasons, still looking at the ground. He doesn’t want to talk about this. He still hasn’t decided on what to do. He’s still so fucking scared. “I’m not brave enough.”

“No more lies, Jihoon-ssi.” Jihoon freezes at the sudden use of formal referrals. _Why?_ “I can’t keep lying to the others like this, either.”

Jihoon feels like he’s underwater. Seungcheol is saying something along the lines of ‘consideration for the other members’ concern’ and ‘guilt’, but Jihoon can’t really hear it. There’s a buzz in his ear that won’t go away, and there’s a familiar numbness in his chest. It starts from his fingers to his chest. The buzzing gets louder, and suddenly, all the sensations are gone.

“—the point is, no more hiding. _The truth has to come out, Jihoon-yah_. The other members are concerned for you! I can’t keep lying for you; it makes me feel guilty that I’m hiding something important!” Jihoon knows, he knows this—everything. He knows but—

“I’m still scared, Cheol! I can’t do this— _I’m not ready!_ ” Jihoon exclaims, choking up, the tears already gathering in his eyes. He’s suddenly aware of the how his heart is racing, so fast it feels like it was going to burst any moment. “I—I’m n-not ready for this,”

“It’s been weeks, Jihoon-yah.” Seungcheol says, sounding frustrated. “It’s been _weeks._ ”

“I know but, I just can’t—I can’t tell them yet, hyung.” Jihoon says, shaking his head vehemently. The ground looks blurry now, and Jihoon knows that it’s just the tears in his eyes. He breathes—one, two, three, four and hold it in—one, two, three, four, five and exhale—one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Repeat. “I can’t.” His voice comes out as shaky and pained.

_It sounds a lot like giving up._

“Do you even want them to know?” Seungcheol asks, his voice sounding cold. “Don’t they deserve to know the truth instead of being kept in the dark?”

“…” Jihoon doesn’t answer.

“Aren’t we supposed to talk about this?”

Silence.

_Why can’t he understand that I’m not ready for this, for telling the truth? Being so vulnerable in front of the people who trust me to be the strong one is a concept that Jihoon will never understand or want to do. He did cry in front of the members once, and it was during their first win, but even then, it felt more of a cry of victory, of relief, that all their efforts were finally paid off and given appropriate rewards. But this—it was something he couldn’t imagine doing. It was too much._

“Talk to me when you’ve got an answer, Jihoon-ssi. I can’t keep lying to them like this, and you can’t either.” Seungcheol says, and Jihoon hears him turn on his heel and walk away, his shoes tapping the pavement. The sound soon fades away until Jihoon can barely hear it, and that’s when he looks up from the ground. The buzz in his ear and the feeling of numbness take over again.

Seungcheol is nowhere to be found, and the cityscape has never looked lonelier in his life.  

_Empty and numb. Spring is the rebirth, the renaissance. Death had come, and like the phoenix we rose from the ashes. But rainy days come, and be it the gentle drip drop, or the pounding rain against the roof, we cannot avoid it._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't kill me just yet. Please. There's more to come, I swear!
> 
> If you liked this chapter please leave a comment below to holler at me (that's fine lmao) or just to casually talk about the story (i love all comments)
> 
> u can also leave kudos if you like the story yeaaaaaaaa
> 
> Anyways. Until the next time I update!


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